


The world is always ending, somewhere

by Ryuosen



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape, F/M, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuosen/pseuds/Ryuosen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Supplies

**Author:** ryuosen  
 **Artist:** davinci's girl  
 **written** for    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

  


[](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)

  
| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) | [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |

Chapter 1 - _Supplies_

  


  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)   


  


" _Is something wrong?"_

" _You are smiling, you never smile."_

 _Laughter... No, more like a dark chuckle echoed through the room, empty save for one occupant. The amusement seemed palpable but he couldn't really relax. That laughter he had heard before, years ago when the world had still been a place worth defending. When he had known nothing but boredom and the knowledge that he was different._

 _He had been young then, innocent even and so bored._

 _"It has been some time," the voice agreed. "but I have reason to smile."_

" _You have seen something."_

 _His fingers itched, tempting him to point them somewhere and wreck havoc. Ironically he had never gotten rid of that annoying habit, despite the years that had passed._

" _Yes, something, someone who will bring change," the voice held something he could interpret, it was like intangible knowledge, floating just out of his reach._

" _Change doesn't necessarily constitute as something good."_

" _I guess not."_

 _The voice was silent after that._

 _He was alone._

 __

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)  


Peter hated waiting.

With trembling fingers, he pulled the hood of his jacket deeper into his face, seeking shelter from the ongoing rain. Wiping the water from his face he retreated back underneath the shelter that served as their meeting place. Away from the angry light that was now their day and night.

He hated waiting.

It had been raining for weeks now and slowly but surely their rations were dwindling. Peter hated to admit it but there wasn't much he could for his community. No, they needed the help of someone else.

Someone who was keeping him waiting.

It irked Peter that he had to wait, but there was nothing to be done about that. To get new supplies he would need help and there were few willing to deal with wanted persons and even fewer with those suspected to be specials.

Peter was - _unfortunately_ \- both.

Risking one more glance from underneath his shelter, he retreated immediately and pressed against the brick wall as a car of the SCU drove slowly past the alley. Heart pounding he calmed his breathing and kept absolutely quiet, watching from the corner of his eyes as the car's spotlights were turned on and their lights were trailing over the ground, lighting up the walls of the alley as the car slowly drove by. Leaning as far back as he could Peter started counting from twenty back to zero. Should he reach zero he knew that he would run. He couldn't be caught. Then the lights were shut off and the car passed his intersection without slowing or stopping - Peter felt like he could breathe again.

Mother fortune had been on his side this time around.

It had been risky coming here in the first place, outside of their protected area, but desperation drove each and everyone of the specials to their breaking point and beyond. After his brother had revealed their existence to the remaining population, their world had changed. First the government had begun rounding them up, then the majority was imprisoned after they had refused to cooperate with the tests that they were supposed to undergo.

Nathan hadn't touched Claire or their mother, but Peter had become fair game as soon as he had openly protested against the laws, against the regime. A mistake on Peter's part, but then again he had never been a politician. His brother had used his protest to further his own cause, admitting to having hidden his younger brother's abilities, but now he was giving him up as a sign of commitment. A sign of commitment to a cause that was almost as bad as the holocaust...

 _No, far worse because this time around it isn't just one nation but the whole world._

A whole world against them.

They were outnumbered, they were outmatched, they didn't have enough weaponry to fight and barely any places to hide, but they were still fighting. Peter still fought.

 _And the world was suffering for it..._

In Italy they had first titled the war, the battles which were fought openly and hidden in the darkness, as the _Apocalypse_. Specials - likened to demons of the bible and the devil was the one, who had gifted them with their powers. Now years later it was still the _Apocalypse_ and neither side had given in. Australia had all but been destroyed during one of the most violent clashes since WWII, costing millions of lives. Left behind was charred blackened earth, where nothing would grow anymore and more corpses than they could count.

Peter pushed the memories away, he didn't want to remember bleeding out as he had tried to save his friends and family. Even Claire's ability had its limits and Peter had pushed right past them and died only to be revived hours later surrounded by the dead. The memory was still haunting him.

Quiet footsteps alerted him to another presence close to his right and only the fact that he hadn't been restrained in any way stopped Peter from pulling his weapon. Carefully, slowly he turned around and came face to face with a young man. He couldn't be older than twenty-five but Peter didn't relax for one minute.

The soldiers, Nathan had created with the formula, sometimes had the most unassuming faces. He had no desire to end up at the tender mercy of the _S_ pecials _C_ ontainment _U_ nit, SCU for short. He could only do one thing, the brunet waited. Five minutes passed, then ten before Peter breathed another silent sigh of relief. His ears picked up the one question he would gladly answer tonight.

"How do you kill a special?"

Allowing his mouth to twitch he met the gray colored stare head on as he answered.

"How do you kill a human?"

And wasn't it a sad sight to see that they weren't even considered human anymore? But those thoughts, too, had no place here now.

"You let them be."

Nodding he allowed the tension to leave his frame. He had an ally at his side, at least for the time being.

"I'm _Mimicry_." he said after a few seconds of silence. The other blond studied him for moments and Peter allowed it. His disguise was good and not even his mother had recognized him when he had, under the guise of being a hired gardener, mowed her lawn two weeks ago.

"You can call me _Hertz._ "

Peter studied the other man. He was a lot younger than Peter had originally thought. Definitely not older than twenty. The hair and face were mostly obscured by a gray hoodie, which had been drawn into the face. Hertz's remaining clothing was similar to his own: dark colored and designed for maximum movement. No weapon was visible but the empath didn't doubt for a minute that he had hidden a few on his person. Only the few brave or stupid still ventured outside without weapon,

Specials didn't belong to either category and there was no doubt about that Hertz was one of them.

Even without his original ability was he still able to discern between a normal human and a special. Mohinder had theorized that his exposure to a large number of specials had sensitized the remains of his empathy. It gave him hope that perhaps the ability wasn't as gone as the scientist had originally believed. Perhaps there was still a chance to regain what he had lost.

But his thoughts and his tendency to brood, too, had no place here, when he was within enemy territory. For all his apparent cooperation, Hertz could turn into an foe in a heartbeat. Peter had learned that lesson the hard way. Matt Parkman's loss had been a blow. It had cost the community nearly cost everything. Nowadays they were more careful.

"So where are the goods?"

Tilting his head to the side, Hertz regarded him just as suspiciously as he had moments ago before indicating the block of warehouses behind them.

"The boss had them delivered two blocks from here in the car like you requested. But before I'll lead you there, I want to see the payment," came the reply.

Now Peter drew a gun, but aimed at the ground while he dug the small envelope from the insides of his pockets. Hertz didn't react to the weapon, which only reinforced Peter's believe that the young man was a special. Watching warily for any signs of a threat he put the money onto the ground before retreating a few steps.

The young man waited until Peter had put some distance between them before he picked the envelope up. Quickly glancing over the contents, the other nodded, while he stuffed the money inside his jacket. The empath could see at least three patches inside the jacket, indicating that it was either second hand or had been modified. He bet on the latter. It made him wonder for what their carefully saved money was being used for.

"Everything's clear. C'mon I parked the van with your order inside a warehouse a few blocks from here. Can't be too careful."

Regarding the young man, Peter nodded his agreement. Clicking the safety back on, he waited for Hertz to show him the way. He wouldn't put the gun away yet, not before he was sure that this wasn't some kind of trick. The kid was right, they couldn't be too careful. A car of the SCU had already passed this place once, there was no guarantee that more wouldn't show up.

Hertz merely indicated the direction before turning around. He walked at an even pace and Peter followed, all too aware of the fact that the young men had turned his back to him, left himself open. It was either a sign of trust or complete overconfidence. Peter guessed it was the latter. He had taken care to appear younger than he really was, Claire's ability only enhanced it. With his hair long and framing his face, he looked younger, innocent even. Although he couldn't completely disguise the gauntness of his face, not even healing could.

Nathan had always teased him about his bangs.

Now they helped Peter in combination with the blue colored contacts he always wore to hide himself from his brother's eyes and ears. It was an open secret that Nathan still searched for him, his photograph among the top ten of the _Most Wanted_ in the United States. But he hadn't found him so far and Peter would do everything that it stayed this way. Too many lives had already been lost and too many depended on him for morale, safety and nourishment.

A hand on his arm pulled him from his musing and had him ready his gun in less than a second. Thunder rolled over the sky and lightning flashed red as Peter regarded the young man. But Hertz was still relaxed.

"Touchy, eh? I would be careful where you point that thing. Wouldn't want to get lost here, would you?"

After a few more moments, he lowered the weapon and shoved it back into the holster at his side. Peter refused to have his safety measure mocked, not when they had saved his life more times than he could count.

"Don't touch me again," he ordered, his voice frosty.

Hertz shrugged with his shoulder, "Alright. We are here, or would you rather spent more time in the open?"

The building was old, decrepit and looked like it would collapse any minute. The bricks were dark, moss growing on them along the many cracks in the exterior, some were missing altogether. Glass shards littered the ground and Peter thought he even saw parts of old construction beams. However the door, while appearing old, had a very intact looking lock with a keypad. Hertz put his hand on a rust colored surface before typing a rather lengthy security code into the system.

The door opened with a hiss, revealing nothing but darkness.

Indicating to enter with his head, Peter followed Hertz. The door closed behind them and it took all his efforts not to fidget. Locked rooms made him nervous ever since that disastrous plane crash years ago.

A small light flared and Peter quietly took in his surroundings. The abandoned building turned out to be a facility of some kind. Machine parts were scattered over the hall, with a small control unit with two active monitors on the opposite wall. In front of the gates parked a lone van. Hertz ignored him for the time being and headed straight for the controls. Peter followed. It turned out that the building even had some kind of surveillance equipment. One of the monitors showed the door they had used and the other the gate, where the van was parked.

"All clear," Hertz announced in a quiet voice. "Wanna see the goods?"

"Of course!"

Hertz opened the van and let Peter in and look. Silently and efficiently as possible he checked whether all their ordered goods had been delivered. Nothing was missing.

"Found everything?" came the question.

"Yes, it's all there," Peter answered.

Closing the door, he instinctively caught the small keychain Hertz threw at him. The keys to the van. But before Peter could say anything, Hertz suddenly turned around. Peter followed his gaze and caught sight of a small blinking red lamp.

"Shit!"

That couldn't mean anything good.

"What does that mean?" he demanded. His hand already wandering to the gun. If Hertz had betrayed him, he wouldn't live long.

"Proximity alarm. Someone not supposed to be here has entered the area. We need to get out of here immediately."

It didn't reassure Peter at all. The situation reeked of betrayal.

"Get in the car!"

Hertz gave him a disbelieving glare before turning his back to him again, fingers typing commands into the console. A screeching noise and the whole hall seemed to come to life. Lights flared and the control unit sunk into the ground before a steel plate slid into place. Around them other machines did the same. Then a wall opened to reveal a motorcycle.

"Didn't you hear me? In the car! Now!" Peter was angry now.

Then he pressed the muzzle of the gun at Hertz's head. The man went rigid and Peter could see how his fingers clenched, the nostrils flared before his body went pliant. What was he planning?

Heat exploded in his hand and Peter dropped the gun with a curse, the burn already healed. But now he felt Hertz's hand on his forehead and he had no doubt that the man could kill him. While he didn't see a flame, he now had proof that Hertz was indeed a special.

 _A pyrokinetic, perfect!_

"Try that again and I'll fry your brain," was the answer. Peter didn't dare to breathe. Sure he had healing and would survive almost anything, but he doubted that he could recover from a destroyed brain. Impalement yes, getting burned? Not a problem, but he would rather not find out if he was able to survive losing his brain.

Then Hertz removed the hand and Peter could breathe again.

A sound of something crashing against the steel door pulled them both from their thoughts. While the door was without a doubt enforced, it was clear that it wouldn't hold them off and Peter knew that it was the SCU. Only they had reason to patrol this area, which was devoid of humans, outside of the domes.

Hertz was tilting his head to the side as if listening to a voice Peter couldn't hear before he nodded.

"Get in the car and then follow me," came the blunt order.

Grabbing the helmet that was placed on the saddle of the motorcycle Hertz looked at Peter expectantly. For a second Peter thought to refuse the order but another crash against the steel door accompanied with a piercing screech made him rethink his actions. The van wasn't locked and he was in the seat before he knew it. He had no idea on how to follow the other man until the radio inside the van cackled and Hertz's voice filled the interior.

"Mimicry! Do you copy?"

Grabbing the speaker he fumbled for a few moments until he found the right button.

"I can hear you," Peter answered.

"Good! I will relay the route we are going to take. Follow me as closely as you can, otherwise you might get lost."

"Understood."

Igniting the engine, he shifted the gear and pushed the accelerator onto the ground. The wheels squeaked in protest as he directed the van to follow the motorcycle, which was already wheeling through the now opened gate and down the ramp onto the pavement.

The sky shimmered blood-red over them as they reached the street. Clouds covering their sins, hiding what they had done to the nature. Thunder rolled over them and Peter shivered. It looked like it would soon erupt once again. They had to be insane to drive outside of the domes or shelter when the sky looked ready to spit fire. But perhaps that was Hertz's intention. Risking a glance into the side mirror, Peter was relieved to see that so far no one was following them. Perhaps the steel door had kept them at bay after all.

"At the next intersection turn left. Oh and don't worry when you hear the sirens. My boss will create a diversion."

Hertz added the last sentence as more of an afterthought than real concern for Peter, but he couldn't fault Hertz for it. The whole evening hadn't gone as originally intended. It was supposed to be a simple deal after all. Like their community had done it a hundred times already. It figured that the first time he, Peter, would buy their goods that everything would go straight to hell.

 _I should have sent Claire._

Turning left, Peter heard the sirens almost immediately. The lights appearing in the range of the mirrors. He cursed. That was way more than one car. But what tipped them off? Had they seen him after all and suspected that he wasn't alone?

"Speed up a bit. There are a lot more than anticipated." The radio crackled.

"Very funny," Peter mumbled under his breath. As if he could go much faster with a loaded van.

But obediently he upped the speed until he was nearly on the same level as the motorcycle. Hertz lifted one hand and signaled him to go right, while speaking at the same time and directing him left. For a few seconds Peter was confused until he remembered that the SCU might be tapping their radio. They passed another intersection before Hertz turned left and he followed. On the left side of the street stood barrels and Peter's eyes widened.

They wouldn't!

Red light blinded him as the barrels exploded in a shower of fire and tar? The flames licked at the tar and in a matter of seconds a complete wall of flames had engulfed the streets, forcing the cars of the SCU to take another route. For a moment Peter even thought he had seen another person standing there, silhouetted by the flames but as he blinked there was nothing.

 _Another special?_

Noticing that Hertz was signaling him again, he forced his attention back to where it belonged: Their escape. The special turned right and then left before stopping eventually. Parking the car, he met the other in front of a run down garage that had seen better days – like most of the buildings outside the domes.

"We will taker shelter here for now. The sky looks ready to burn and I for one could do without getting caught in it."

Peter couldn't help but agree. While no one knew how it come to the _burning sky_ , whether a special had been responsible or someone else. But fact was someone had set the ozone layers on fire, leaving their sky a blazing crimson inferno. An inferno that sometimes rained fire down upon them. It resembled the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah far too much for Peter's liking, but as they had already been reduced to demonic spawn it didn't make much of a difference anymore. The domes that had been built to shelter humanity were open for anyone but them and blood tests determined pretty quick whether you were one of them or not.

It left them with nothing.

And if that wasn't enough already, there were the SCU squads, which caught specials whenever they could. Soldiers, specially chosen for the task Nathan had set for them, soldiers strengthened by the formula. The government was hypocritical at all, using their own brand of specials to catch what they had deemed to be a threat to their lives.

How they had managed to survive so far was anyone's guess. But they had. Peter's community had found shelter in an old abandoned mineshaft, which they had adapted to their needs.

"In here. Predictions say that we're within the affected area."

With one last glance to the burning bubbling sky, Peter followed Hertz into the garage. He parked the van onto the ramp Hertz had indicated and watched with surprise as the vehicle sunk into the ground. Now their goods were protected by what looked to be inches of steel.

"Thanks."

The young man waved his gratitude aside.

"No thanks necessary. It would be bad for business if we let our paying customers die. And besides we gotta stick together."

The first tremors that shook the ground, stopped Hertz from continuing. His gaze wandered over to the now closed door. Then they heard it, first rumbling then a hiss and the ground shook with the force of the impact. The first fireball had hit the earth.

It had started raining.

Despite the raining flames had the earth managed to adapt. Although rainforests were nowadays nothing more than fond memories of those of the older generation. Instead the continents were covered by sporadic but fast growing forests and endless savannas with an animal population consisting largely of predators.

"The boss says it's alright to spent the night with us. C'mon."

Behind a wall to the right was another set of doors, which led into a room with a set of stairs, which led into a cellar. They went down two stairs and Peter watched as Hertz took an oil lamp from a nail below a wooden support beam. Curiously enough did he use a match to light the lamp. Perhaps not a pyrokinetic after all. But what talent did Hertz have that generated heat and produced burns. He resolved to worry about it later as they walked deeper and deeper into the twisted corridors. After two more turns he noticed that they looked all the same, most certainly even designed to confuse opponents.

They ended up in front of a wooden wall. At least that was what Peter thought until Hertz hooked his fingers behind a latch and pulled it aside to reveal a small room. No more than three would fit in it at the same time, Peter guessed. Hertz entered and waited for Peter before he slid the wall back into its original position. A heavy looking padlock was secured around the latch. Then Hertz turned around, lifting the lamp and hanging it onto a hook. Now he could see that in the middle of the room was a trapdoor. This one with a keyhole.

Raising an eyebrow he waited, expectantly, for Hertz to do something. The other pulled a cord with heavy looking brass key from the insides of his hoodie. Unsurprisingly the key was used to oped the trapdoor. Unlocked, they lifted the lid off to reveal a hole and a ladder that led even deeper into the earth. Complete darkness greeted him as he looked down.

Hertz had pushed his hood down and revealed a young roundish face with short dark blond hair, blue-gray eyes, a flat nose and a serious looking mouth. Peter guessed that he didn't smile often. Not that they had much to smile about these days. He gestured for Peter to climb down the ladder. It caused Peter to look down again and then back at Hertz, both eyebrows raised.

"I'll need to lock up again and for that I need the light. Get your ass down or you'll be spending the night in the building!"

Now put like that the darkness actually looked inviting to Peter. He could still feel the effects the fire rain had on the earth. Vibrations shuddered through ground, strong enough to bring the building down upon them. The rungs felt cold under his fingers as he climbed. He was barely seven feet down when Hertz followed him. The lamp hung on a hook next to the ladder as Hertz closed the trapdoor over them and locked it with an audible _click._ Taking the lamp the younger man begun to climb down again, forcing Peter to do so as well.

The lamp didn't offer much light, not enough to see every detail at any rate. Sliding his fingers over the walls, he felt the rough texture of unevenly carved stone under his fingertips. So this group of specials, too, lived inside an abandoned mine or something similar. Peter let the blond pass and followed him until they reached another door, once again polished steel. Though without a lock this time, Peter figured that they were confident enough that no one would ever reach this point. Hertz extinguished the lamp and hooked it up on another nail before opening the door and bowing somewhat mockingly. Peter wasn't bothered and stepped over the threshold only to shield his eyes with his hands against the bright light that greeted him.

"Sorry, forgot that you aren't used to that," came the distant answer.

Peter hadn't even noticed that he had stumbled forward, one hand reaching blindly for something to brace himself against. Another slender hand grabbed him and he stiffened, yet didn't go for his gun. This was far too elaborate to be a trap. No this was one of the few shelters the specials had managed to conceal from Nathan and the government. It made him wonder how many hid here. The hand pulled at his arm until his fingers connected with something cold, something metallic before letting him go. A railing perhaps? Opening his eyes he blinked before rubbing his eyes, but the picture stayed.

Peter gaped.


	2. Sanctuary

**Author:** [](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/profile)[**ryuosen**](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** [](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**davincis_girl**](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/)  
 **written** for [](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**apocabigbang**](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/)    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

  


  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)   


  
| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) | [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |

  


 

Chapter 2 - _Sanctuary_

Before him opened a cave, no a lagoon, a den or something entirely else but whatever it was, it was at least two times the size of Kirby Plaza. The roaring sound of water crashing against stones assaulted his ears and his gaze followed the river that ran along the uneven wall below him before ending in what had to be an actual lake. Dozen of paths were carved into the stone and twisted throughout the whole cave along with what had to be huts.

Then there was nature, green grass like Peter hadn't seen it since before the first fire rains, flowers of varied colors grew merrily in flower beds framed by trees long thought to be extinct. Bridges were built over the lake, creating intersections, but ending all in the center of the cave. An island that seemed to float over the lake but didn't. His head turned up to see something above them. It was no sun, in fact Peter had no idea what it was but it shone, shone with a light that took his breath away. Men, women, even children were walking, mingling, some talking, others carrying goods and was that man leading a sheep away from a lawn?

He had to be dreaming, this couldn't be real. His fingers were clenching around the metallic railing as he, unconsciously, leaned farther forward to get a better view. Were those all specials?

"No, not all of them. Some are immediate family or non-specials, who protested against one government or another."

Peter startled. Had he said the last bit out loud. Hertz's amused look gave him the answer he sought. Turning his stare back to the people a level below them he addressed Hertz.

"How did you built all of this?"

The younger man hummed, facial muscles pulled into an expression of contemplation, or what Peter thought to be contemplation. It took some time for him to answer.

"Well the cave was already here as was the lake below. I think the boss and some of the carnies created the river. You would have to ask them for details, though I'll doubt that they will very forthcoming. Why would you want to know anyway?"

Peter only gave him a flat look, not that anybody could see it before continuing, "Are you mad. It looks like you have a completely functioning ecosystem here."

"It is one! Long time no see Petrelli."

His whole body froze. It couldn't be. His head turned to the left and he met the gaze of Matt Parkman, a man they thought to have lost in one of the worst fights during the war. When Mohinder had sold them out to the government. Quite a few of them had died that day, Matt's newly wed wife Daphne among them as well as Matt himself.

At least that was what they had thought.

"Matt?"

He took one step, then two and punched the telepath as hard as he could. Matt reeled back and stared at Peter in shock as he cradled his cheek, which already began to show dark shadows along the cheekbone. In all honesty Peter was just as surprised as Matt. As telepath Matt should have known what he had been planning since he had never learned to shield his mind. But Parkman hadn't. What was going on?

"You didn't evade my attack," he commented.

"I deserved it," Matt replied before adding, "not that I could. Know what you were planning, I mean."

Peter frowned, how did Parkman mean that?

"After Mohinder betrayed us, the government didn't even bother with giving us a proper burial. I awoke - injured - inside the burned-out building on top of the corpse of my wif.. of Daphne. Got out there as fast as I could and hid in one of the less broken down houses. A day later a clean-up crew arrived and burned the whole block down."

Peter studied the thick scar that ran down Parkman's face. It started at the left side of his temple and bisected the left cheek down until the collar of his shirt began. From the thick and puffy skin of the scar Peter could easily tell that the wound hadn't been treated properly, if at all. It had been a deep wound, possibly fatal. A real miracle that the telepath was still breathing. However even without empathy he could sense that the wound would be a touchy subject. Daphne had died, that alone was enough for Peter to keep silent. But something else had caught his attention.

"What did you mean when you said, you couldn't anticipate my attack?"

He had to know what Parkman meant with that.

"What I said. I cannot read thoughts any longer. So I can't foresee what you are going to do." was the calm answer.

He froze and stared at Parkman like he had never seen him before. The telepath's words repeating themselves over and over inside his mind. It left him feeling cold, cold and frightened. How could have Parkman lost his power and what did that mean for them.

"Before you are having a stroke, there is no need to worry. Others survived the attack as well and none of them lost their powers."

Pressure eased and Peter could breathe again with relief. The thought of known specials suddenly being defenseless within their opponents' reach terrified him. It reminded him all too well of one of his brother's projects. A project that had the revival of the shanti virus as goal. Fortunately for them, all people with knowledge of the virus were either dead, like Adam, or not talking like Mohinder. He had gained super strength with the help of the formula and had no desire to help anyone unearth his dead sister's corpse.

"An isolated incident then?"

"More likely a psychological problem on my part," Matt answered, "but we don't have any telepaths who could confirm it or a psychologist."

"Not to interrupt your tearful union but you're attracting stares and I for one am hungry."

Only now Peter noticed that quite a few people had stopped and were now watching him and Matt with undisguised curiosity. He offered them a shaky smile before turning back to Matt who was talking with Hertz in quiet tones, too quiet for him to hear. Hertz nodded a few time before studying him. It made him uncomfortable but he refused to let the other special see that, instead he stared back boldly. The silence that followed was nothing but awkward.

Matt nodded at Hertz before he went to a flight of stairs Peter hadn't seen before. He moved to follow but Hertz caught his arm and held him in place. Then his face was next to his ear, Peter could feel the breath on his skin and suppressed a shiver at the thought of having a special, whose abilities he didn't know, so close.

Then Hertz whispered, "Just a bit of friendly advice. I wouldn't parade that last name of yours around. Most of us here aren't really fond of your family right now, I'm sure you understand."

The other man pulled away and took another step towards the set of stairs before Peter found his voice. He didn't know whether it was his shock at Hertz's audacity or the thought that he would endanger himself like this. At the sheer stupidity. Both Claire and him had more than once been attacked for being related to Nathan Petrelli. Now they generally referred to themselves by their code names.

"Thank you for your _concern_!" he sneered.

A barking laugh was the answer together with an expression, a wide grin, that was weirdly familiar to Peter. Wide, open and all teeth – the grin of a predator stalking a helpless prey. Then it was gone, replaced by a grim frown that seemed more at home on the others face than the psychotic grin had been.

"There's no need to be a bitch. I meant what I said and before you ask. One of my friends, the one responsible for this place told me about you. So _no,_ I don't bear you any ill will."

Now that was interesting Peter mused. One of the constructors knew him. But who? Almost all specials he had often interacted with also lived with him and the rest was dead. So who could have helped with the construction and knew him before the world went to hell in a basket.

He didn't know.

"And what did your boss say about me?" he asked.

Hertz smiled. It made him appear younger than he was, but Peter couldn't help but think that the blond was laughing at him.

"He said that you're naive and always rush into situations, which are more often than not bigger than you can fathom," Hertz paused before looking sheepish and continuing, "but he also said that you always try to do the right thing and that you have a good heart."

The first part enraged Peter but the second took all wind out of his sails and he deflated faster than he would have thought possible. It was a surprisingly accurate description, one Peter could identify with. But who had said that about him, who knew him well enough to know him and was still alive.

Claude was out of question. While the Brit was certainly smart, he was also very reclusive. The fear of the Company nearly destroying him. Hiro was also out as he was living with them and additionally he could be very blind, when it came to other peoples' motives. Much like himself. Besides he, too, had lost his powers and would probably be no help in starting such a huge project and keeping it _a secret_. Mohinder, while certainly intelligent enough was widely known as a traitor to their kind and ranked in dislike just beneath Nathan. No, it couldn't be him either.

"Who's your friend anyway?" he asked in the end because he couldn't think of anyone who might know him and still have the abilities to construct something like what he was seeing.

Now Hertz looked uncomfortable. His shoulders tensed in the same way they had when Peter had still been holding his gun. It intrigued him all the more. Then his shoulders relaxed and he shrugged.

"If you want to meet him, you might want to stay up tonight. He has a habit of checking the constructions himself after everyone but the guards went to bed," he said. "Now come, I'll show where you can get something to eat and one of the bosses will make sure you have a place to sleep. Will someone expect you back tonight?"

He shook his head. He and Claire always planned more than a day for supply runs. It wasn't unusual for them to be delayed, be it by checks of the SCU or the burning sky and its rains. No, today he wouldn't be missed. However they usually tried to send a sign in some manner. Total lack of contact usually meant one thing and it wasn't good. They had learned that lesson the hard way.

 _And Gretchen paid for it..._

While Claire had been off limits for the _S_ pecials _C_ ontainment _U_ nit, she also became fair game quicker than they could have anticipated. As soon as she, too, had openly protested against her father's plans, to be precise. Their escape had been narrow and ill timed. Both of them forced to leave their home or in Claire's case her dorm in a matter of minutes with only the necessities they could carry without hindering their escape. It was the last thing his mother had done for either of them. She had warned them but afterward neither had heard from her again. Peter tried not to let his bitterness get to him. Not when it had been even harder for Claire. She had been forced to leave Gretchen behind, her first real relationship.

But Gretchen had insisted on staying, had argued that they would need someone on the inside and she had been right. Her connection to Claire wasn't well known, even among their classmates. It had made her the ideal person to gather information and offer shelter to them, in case they needed it. It had worked well for two years before Gretchen suddenly disappeared without a trace. Contact had ceased for more than two weeks before Claire rushed into the dome to find her girlfriend.

The dorm had been empty save for a lone letter on the unmade bed. It had been signed with _love Dad_. A gloat if there ever was one. It had enraged Peter, it had nearly crushed Claire and destroyed any hope they had for Nathan's salvation, although he avoided confrontations between them just as much as they did. Neither of them was eager to kill a part of their family.

His niece was still convinced that her correspondence, left behind on her laptop, had tipped her father off. Searching for Gretchen had yielded no results, not even Molly Walker had been able to find her and that could only mean one thing.

 _Nathan what have you done...?_

It seemed impossible that Nathan would kill an innocent girl or order someone to do it but Gretchen was gone. A young woman, who had done nothing wrong, but helping the person she loved. Yet she remained missing - Claire refused to think of her as dead - and Claire more than determined to take the government down, more determined to fight.

"Mimicry you coming? I won't wait forever."

Hertz's voice pulled Peter from the dark thoughts that threatened to envelope him. Hurriedly he followed the younger man down the stairs. The walk wasn't long. Hertz had weaved expertly through the masses that crossed their path. Sometimes he had answered a call or stopped briefly to talk with women or a group of men before continuing.

Peter was led to one of the highest buildings of the entire compound. Thick pillars jutted from the wall, reaching into the cave and the dinning hall before ending in the wall on the other side. If he didn't know any better he would say that they were entirely made from glass but even with the light he couldn't be sure. Just as he had trouble believing that the entire building seemed to be built from clay and earth, yet he could see no cut stones or mortar.

The bridge swayed gently to their movements as they crossed the lake below them. Despite Hertz's insistence to hurry, Peter stopped again to gaze into the abyss below. So much water in one place outside of the domes, which even seemed to be clean. Unbelievable.

 _How did they manage to built all this without anyone noticing? Where do they get the air from?_

More people joined them now as they crossed another bridge and Peter watched as Hertz was greeted some more and he himself was eyed with suspicion. Then they finally entered the building whose interior reminded Peter of a crossbreed between a canteen and a meeting hall. Dozen rows of tables and benches filled the room with what seemed to be a meal distribution area tucked against the walls and something that resembled an overgrown dishwasher. Above them were two stone boards that had the names of the meals engraved.

It was awe inspiring. Especially as Hertz offered him a tray and gestured for Peter to take his place in the queue. When it was his turn he was surprised. The man who had taken his order – fish and chips with ketchup – was also the person giving out the food and the drinks. As he was about to comment on that to his companion, he noticed that there had to eight doubles of the man as Hertz was ordering food from the same man. An ability, obviously. Fascinated Peter watched as the man took an order while a double was already filling a plate with the choice and another filled a glass.

Peter had had many abilities and used them but never for something so trivial, something done everyday or so casual. Here there was no need to hide because almost all of them had an ability in some shape or form. For a few seconds he watched and couldn't help but smile. This was how their society should have been.

Unfortunately it wasn't and they would have to live with it. His smile vanished.

Slightly more subdued did he follow Hertz who effortlessly weaved through the rows of benches and throngs of people. Eventually he stopped at an almost empty table and sat down next to a brunette. Peter thought that there was something vaguely familiar about her but couldn't place her face. Following his companion's example he put his tray down and took a place next to him. The woman looked at him and did a double-take, clearly recognizing him. Yet she made no move to attack him instead continued to eat her oatmeal. Still he could see that she was periodically eying him from the corner of her eyes.

He did his best to ignore her but the distrust made it hard to keep anything down, despite this being the best meal he had eaten in a long time. Meanwhile Hertz was talking to the brunette in quiet tones, Peter couldn't understand but she eyed him again before nodding. The younger man offered her a smile before he dug into his meal like a starving men. He finished before Peter had even eaten half of his portion. Then he grabbed his tray and stood but gestured for him to stay put.

"No need to hurry, finish in your own time Mimicry. Sparrow, here," he gestured to the brunette, "will show you to our … guest quarters. As for meeting my friend, you might want to familiarize yourself with the layout of the den."

Peter was left behind with the woman named Sparrow, who finished her oatmeal by the time the former empath had cleaned his own plate. She was quiet and continued to study him, though this time blatantly. There was something in her eyes, he couldn't quite place. It wasn't hate but didn't seem to be friendliness either. If he didn't know it any better, he would say it was curiosity. When she spoke, Peter's feeling of knowing her only intensified.

"I'm sure you are tired. I'll show you where you can sleep."

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)

" _You wanna tell me what you're planning?"_

" _No..."_

" _Aww, come on! How long have we known each other now?"_

 _He tried desperately not to pout like some little kid, who had been denied its favorite treat but it was harder than he imagined. Another habit he had never gotten rid off, that and the distrust hurt. One would think that Zero would trust him after all these years._

" _Long enough, but I still won't tell you."_

 _Yes, the man was as unapproachable as ever._

" _Then at least tell me what's so special about Mimicry."_

 _Laughter, something familiar. Something he could take comfort in. If Zero laughed, then it was at least nothing bad for their community.  
_

" _You could say that he and I are_ _ **old friends**_ _so to speak.._ _"_

" _Zero, you have told me more times than I can count that you don't do friends." he trailed off before plowing on, "has it something to do with his power? I noticed he was healing."_

" _Warmer, but not quite hot."_

 _He frowned. It had to do with Mimicry's power but apparently not healing. ...Mimicry.. that name..? Was it that simple?_

 _"Can he imitate powers? But why would that interest you? I mean, it wouldn't be of any use to you, would it?" he asked._

 _A chuckle this time and he could just hear the grin that had to split the others face in two. Zero was nothing if not an arrogant son of a bitch. Now that reminded him of the times years ago, when they had met for the first time. Zero had mellowed since then, but time did that._

" _Not hot yet. Tomorrow!"_

" _Damn you!"_

 _More laughter surrounded him before the voice was gone and he was alone._

 _Again, like so many times before._

 _Yet before he, too, left the room another faint nearly inaudible whisper reached his ears. It caused his eyes to widen at the implications and his heart began to pound with something he hadn't felt in years._

 _For the first time he began to hope again._

" _Parkman's ability' is not as gone as he might think."_ _  
_

 _  
_   
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)

Peter and Sparrow rose from their seats and handed their trays to a copy of the man who had given them their food in the first place. By now there were at least sixteen copies of him running about, some collecting plates, while others were wiping the tables down. The hall was steadily emptying now and Peter wondered for a brief second how late it was. His meeting with Hertz had been scheduled for 6 pm and their flight must have taken at least thirty minutes. Meeting Matt had taken time too, he guessed it was around 8 pm but he could be wrong. Despite living under the earth for years Peter still hadn't learned to guess time without a watch. Not that it was easy with the sky burning like an inferno.

When the sky had first caught fire most of the electronic systems on earth had short-circuited and only selected few had survived. It had taken them months before they had managed to acquire a working clock. Before they had simply followed their instincts and body memory with interesting results. They had quickly learned not to listen to Claire, who unsurprisingly didn't need as much rest as them.

"Follow me, the living and guest quarters are this way."

Sparrow used another bridge which led into the opposite direction of the entrance which made sense, Peter supposed. If they were attacked the children would be the furthest away from the fighting. The living quarters turned out to be small clusters of clay houses which either connected with the walls of the cave or were arranged in a half-circle around a hut in the middle of more sets of small islands that were seemingly floating above the lake. Now he could also see that there were far more pathways than he had originally thought. Whole tunnels had been carved into the stones leading into the earth.

The whole construct was magnificent.

Peter was busy staring at a miniature waterfall when Sparrow addressed him and he nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. But there was still no hostility in her voice.

"I know who you are... Peter Petrelli," she said, "I remember you bringing the airplane down... I was flung out of it prior the crash."

She was staring at him and now Peter could remember. A young woman, more like a teenager, cuffed to a seat in the line next to the wall he had destroyed. The seat that was sucked out of the plane when Mohinder had grabbed and saved him from falling. His lips parted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to say something, anything but nothing came out. Sparrow continued without acknowledging his attempt.

"I guess I have to thank you. Without your interference I wouldn't have been able to break free and meet with _rebel._ So thank you."

Now that caught Peter's attention. He was familiar the group which had at one point surrounded Micah Sanders, but he had never heard from him again after he had received the footage about the treatment of evolved humans. Claire had been guided by _rebel_ afterwards but then they, too, had vanished without a trace. Even Molly, who had been left in their care by Claude, couldn't find them.

"Where are they?" he asked.

Sparrow just glanced at them before averting her eyes in sorrow and Peter understood without questioning more. So they had lost Micah to Nathan's forces too. It hurt, although he hadn't been as familiar with Micah as with others they had lost. Every special dieing at the hands of the government was a tragedy for them.

"West is still alive and hiding with another group somewhere in Europe, but we rarely have contact. Without Micah it's too dangerous as we have no way of knowing whether it's safe or not. Then there is _Ellen._ Their members still smuggle specials out of the country and ensure that they have a place in other communities. They once worked closely with us. Nowadays they are more self-reliant, though we still supply them with goods."

Sparrow was silent after that, disinclined to reveal more than she already had. She led him to one of the huts and lit a candle which had been placed in a holder by the door. Peter could see as she placed a box of matches in a small nook before handing him the candle holder.

"We currently have no guests, so you can make yourself at home here," she gestured to the corner, where three single beds were placed against the wall, before continuing, "The bathroom facilities are always shared between a group of houses. It's the one in the center. Hot water will run for about ten minutes so take that into consideration. We don't have a curfew but you might want to avoid skulking around."

Peter offered her a blank face full of confusion and Sparrow - he had no idea if that was even her real name - sighed in exasperation.

"L-Hertz said that you wanted to met with one of our leaders. For that you'll have to walk around at night."

"Yes about that. Why can't I meet him in the morning? I know what Hertz said, but wouldn't it be easier?"

She shook her head briefly before pining him down with a flat stare before answering, "It's impossible! Otherwise Hertz wouldn't have told you to walk around when everyone's sleeping. _Zero_ isn't able to meet you in person. So either you take a walk tonight or you can forget it."

With one last annoyed glare Sparrow turned around and left Peter behind. Watching her go, he should perhaps keep his mouth shut the next time. Sparrow hadn't appeared to hate him, had even went as far as to thank him for nearly killing her, but she hadn't been friendly either. Polite yes, but not friendly. But he understood, it was hard to be nice to someone you could connect to their current situation.

 _If everything would just change..._

But things didn't change anymore and there was no one left alive to try and alter their timeline. Hero had lost his powers just like he himself had and there was no other known special with the ability of manipulating time. And if there was Nathan wouldn't have left him or her alive. He sighed, however you looked at it, their situation sucked, big time. Using the candle he inspected the small hut.

Nothing personal, but somehow quite cozy with three single beds and two doubles in the corners. The rest of the room was filled with a small reading area. Book cases against the wall with worn out couches and a table next to them. Candle holders were scattered all over the place, the candles ready to be lit. Drawing a finger over the table it came away dusty.

 _Figures, doesn't look like they get guests often._

Behind the three beds stood a wardrobe which contained upon closer inspection a collection of old clothes and towels. With care he selected a pair of pants and a shirt that might fit him as well as a towel. He had been wearing his clothes for days now. Figuring that he could at least make the best of his stay here, Peter took the candle and stepped out of the hut.

It had grown dark now.

The sun or whatever functioned as sun down here, had grown dim and without a candle he wouldn't have been able to see anything at all. His light was like a signal, alerting everyone of his presence. All over the paths he could see dozens of little lights milling on and about with most of them moving away from the dining hall. It made him wonder how the houses were spread over the cave. Apparently he had been wrong in his assumption that all slept in the same area.

Opening the bath house he looked around before hooking the candle holder onto a hook next to the door. It gave a _click_ and Peter whirled around to see the candle sink into a small glass shade. He had no time to wonder what was going to happen as a almost inaudible sound pulled his attention to a thin wire that pulled the shade and candle under the roof and the whole bath was suddenly lit.

 _A lamp?_

Indeed an old lamp was now hanging above his head, making it possible to see the complete interior. The bath house seemed to be just that. There was an even tub inlaid in the ground with two shower heads on the wall above. Remembering Sparrow's warning he hurriedly got out of his clothes, folded them, left them on a chair and stepped into the tub. In a nook in the wall was a small piece of sweet smelling soap as well as a bottle of shampoo.

Opening the faucet, he yelped as cold water rained down on him. Jumping to the side, he cautiously held his hand out to test the temperature. Now the water was lukewarm and he stepped under the spray. Hot water cascaded down his back and he sighed in pleasure. Showers had become a luxury too after they had been driven from the domes.

He was mindful of the time and finished long before the hot water ran out. Toweling off, he inspected the area behind a paper thin wall and found a rudimentary toilet - at least compared to the rest of the bath. After relieving himself, he slipped into the black pants and pulled the shirt over his head. It was a little tight around his shoulders and showed a bit of midriff. A chuckle escaped him as he examined himself in the stained mirror. Nothing he saw, reminded him of the Peter, who had once upon a time decided to jump off of a roof to see if he could fly.

Instead a sharp slightly emaciated face framed by long hair greeted him. At least he had been spared that damn scar that had seemed to follow him around through all of the possible futures he had seen. But he had acquired other scars like the one starting on his left shoulder blade, stretching over his entire back and ending on his right butt cheek. A souvenir he had received in the aftermath of a particular vicious fight with the _SCU._ The synthetic soldier's power - animal shifting - had been responsible. When the bastard had shifted parts of his body into a big cat, Peter hadn't been fast enough and the man had managed to nearly claw his whole back open. Back then he and Claire hadn't lived in the same community and by the time she had found and cured him with her blood, the wound had already scarred. He had received that wound the day he had last seen Nathan.

It had left a mark on him, much more profound than the burn on his lower arm or the cut near his knee or even the thick scar encircling his neck, where a soldier had nearly decapitated him.

Near the tub was another smaller one, made from some kind of wood. Next to it against the wall leaned a washboard. He assumed it was to clean clothes. The white powder he found inside a chest next to the board only affirmed his guess. Filling the tub with water he dumped the powder in, before grabbing his clothes and adding them to the mix. He cleaned them as best as he could. After finishing he hung them on a thin cord that had been strung throughout the hut.

Leaving his clothes to dry, he contemplated on how to get the candle back down, when he noticed a small switch next to the wire, where the shade had hung. Tipping the switch down had the desired effect and with a quiet buzzing sound the lamp drifted back down. Taking the holder he left the hut.

By now the paths were nearly empty. Only few lights were moving around and Peter guessed them to be the guards.

Time to see if he could meet with Zero and gain an insight in this system. The community could become a tremendous ally should he be able to convince them to fight on their side. It was nearly unbelievable that dozens of specials still lived inside the US and they had no idea about it. But first he needed to meet Zero.

With the light in hand he wandered around the area until he encountered someone he had thought dead as well. Wearing slightly worn combat boots, dark jeans and a dark muscle shirt, Ando Masahashi patrolled the upper pathway of the cave. Peter stopped and stared. Hiro had never found out what had happened to his partner after they had been separated and here he was, alive.

"Ando?" he whispered before he knew what he was doing.

Red lightning covered the other man's hands before he turned to face Peter. Then it extinguished and a hesitant smile overcame his face. Ando stepped closer.

"Petrelli-san?"

Surrounded by the light of the candle Peter nodded. The other man smiled and – to Peter's surprise – embraced him tightly, like a long lost friend. Now that was a reaction he hadn't expected.

"It's good to see you Petrelli-san." he said before letting go.

Peter only nodded.

"As well as expected," he answered. "We thought you dead Ando, Hiro thought you dead."

Now the Japanese looked sad, shoulders slagging and the smile gone. Then he looked startled.

"Hiro is alive... is well?"

"Yes, he's lost his powers but he is unharmed. He's living with Claire, me and others in an abandoned mineshaft."

Ando laughed, a joyful sound. It sounded unlike anything Peter had heard in recent times and that thought made it all the more precious. There were still moments worth fighting for.

"That's good, I'm glad Petrelli-san," he said bowing briefly, before carrying on. "Thank you for telling me. If there is anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to come to me. Will you be staying with us from now on?"

Peter shook his head briefly before getting an idea. Ando would certainly know.

"Do you know where I can find Zero?"

He saw Ando's eyebrows shot up in what appeared to be surprise. It caused the former empath to frown. If he didn't know it any better, he would say that the Japanese was nervous. However he couldn't think of a plausible reason.

"Why would you want to talk to S.. to Zero?"

Yes, there was a definite timbre of uncertainty in Ando's voice. And he still couldn't think of a reason, except... perhaps it was someone he knew. Well he had already suspected that, given the rather blunt but accurate statement ' _Zero_ ' had made about his character. Still it didn't explain the Japanese's fidgeting.

"I wanted to ask him about your community. How you managed to built it without alerting anyone to it."

"Ah, I understand. I could tell you, if you want. Zero's not here.. it might be a bit before he shows up."

"I would appreciate it, Ando." Peter answered.

As the other man started walking again, he followed.

"After Hiro and I destroyed the formula, we separated briefly due to an argument. I was confident that he would find me due to a GPS tracker under my skin, so I wasn't too worried. But then your brother started to hunt us. I tried desperately to get in contact with Hiro, to get back to Japan, to no avail. The airports were all shut down and no one was allowed to leave the country. Without Hiro I was stuck and I couldn't find him. I suspected that they found his tracker and removed it. I wasn't a known special, but still in danger for my association with Hiro, which was known to your brother, Petrelli-san. I pretty much spent most of the following months running. It worked for awhile but one day they caught up and confronted me. I was wounded and barely escaped capture somewhere in Arizona. An old woman named Alice saved and took care of me in an abandoned underground facility. She told me that it was once a concentration camp for specials and that her sister left her there..."

Peter startled and Ando stopped, waiting patiently for him compose himself before continuing.

"Your brother's attempts aren't the first ones made on specials. In the sixties groups of specials were kept in a camp in Coyote Sands and experimented on by a man named Chandra Suresh. One day a special lost control and razed the complete camp to the ground. Only few survived. Your parents among them."

"How would you know?" he asked.

"Inside the lab were a few files left. While most were nearly destroyed, some were intact. Other founders of the Company survived as well. By the time I was healed and ready to go back to running others arrived under the leadership of Luke."

"Who is Luke?" Peter asked, although he already suspected someone. He hadn't forgotten Sparrow's almost slip.

"You probably know him as Hertz. He brought other specials with him, among them a group of people who once belonged to a carnival entirely composed of specials. However their leader tried to wipe out all of New York along with quite a chunk of the government body. Unfortunately he failed and many of the carnies were killed. Luke along with Zero found them and brought them to Alice and me. Together we created this." Ando waved his arms in some kind of grand gesture, undoubtedly meaning the whole cave.

"Sparrow shaped the interior together with Zero, Ian let nature grow, Alice takes care of the climate and I bring light."

More small red sparks hovered around his hands while he spoke and then pointed towards the ceiling of the cave. Peter's gaze followed and he ended up looking directly to the sun like contraption.

"What does your power do?"

Ando smiled lightly before answering. "It's pure energy and can charge almost anything, whether living or mechanical."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. Ando's power was interesting, very interesting. Boosted with that, Claire would probably last much longer on a battlefield and he himself as well, not to forget the other specials. But before he pursued that line of thought he needed to know something else.

"What does Zero do?" he asked.

Ando was silent for a moment before answering.

"Zero is our tactician, engineer and planer. His power allows for a vast understanding of nearly every area and thus makes it possible to foresee.. predict how it will work or you know wont."

A feeling of dread rose in Peter, the description sounding awfully familiar. It reminded him distantly of something he had experienced once. He'd nearly killed his mother then. The knowledge of watching and understanding and that unbearable hunger. An uncontrollable urge. Shuddering he pushed those thoughts away. There was no need to think of Sylar and the assurance that the murderer had saved his mother's life, killed his father and that they had for a brief period of time thought to be family. But it couldn't be, if Sylar was in fact part of this community, then lots of specials would have died already. The man was a serial killer after all and Peter had felt firsthand more than once how it felt to die at his hands. Yet the feeling of dread stayed.

"Whom.. " but before Peter could finish his sentence, he was interrupted. The dark voice he heard, caused his next words to keep stuck inside his mouth. He was also pretty sure that his heart skipped a beat.


	3. Zero

**Author:** [](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/profile)[**ryuosen**](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** [](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**davincis_girl**](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/)  
 **written** for [](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**apocabigbang**](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/)    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

 

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)

| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) | [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |

  


Chapter 3 - _Zero_  


 

"So I heard you wanted to speak to me, Peter?"

He didn't want to turn around and have his suspicions confirmed, he really didn't. Without an offensive power he was next to helpless against the mass murderer and Claire's healing wouldn't do him any good. Ando was also here but as he had yet to make a move to attack Sylar, Peter wouldn't really count on him.

"Evening _Joules_ , I trust everything is calm?"

"It is. The check-ups on the walls and machines have been concluded two hours ago. Minimal damage to the buildings and none to the equipment." Ando concluded, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Apparently he didn't feel threatened by Sylar's presence.

"Good to hear. Continue with your round. Peter and I can talk while I check up on the constructions."

Ando nodded before turning around and walking away. Leaving the former empath alone with the killer. He kept his gaze on the ground, not wanting to look into the others eyes. The last time they had met, both of them had still believed to be brothers. Before Sylar had stopped him from killing his father and done it himself.

"You coming Petrelli, my time's limited."

Now Peter looked up, he hadn't felt Sylar pass him and yet his voice sounded as if he stood in front of him. For the second time in less than two minutes Peter froze. Sylar looked different, to say the least. His whole body appeared to be translucent and without any corporal shape. Small wisps of fog surrounded him, trailed over his body before whisking out of existence.

If he didn't know it any better, Peter would say that Sylar was a ghost.

Fortunately ghosts didn't exist and unfortunately that meant that Sylar wasn't dead yet. But at least he looked like it.

"Is that a new power?" he asked, he had to. He needed to know if anyone here had died for Sylar to be here.

Sylar raised an eyebrow and grinned. Now he knew why Hertz' grin had seemed so familiar. The younger man had obviously copied it from Sylar.

"New? No, had that one for years."

With that Sylar turned around and walked towards one of the pathways leading inside the earth, giving Peter no choice but to reluctantly follow him. The hallway was dimly lit with few candles, forcing him to keep close to the other who gave out an otherworldly light. Sylar said nothing as they walked and he stayed equally silent although he had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, starting with how the murderer had ended up like he was.

They stopped on one of the hanging islands. He watched as Sylar sank to his knees at the trunk of one of the pillars that sprouted from and ended up in the cave's ceiling. There was an expression of intense concentration on his face as on of his hands appeared to touch the pillar. After a few moments he removed his hand and walked over to the next one. It was the same procedure over and over until Sylar had checked every single pillar within the cave. By the time they finished, Peter had trouble keeping his eyes open. The revelations of the evening had zapped all energy from him and all he wanted to do was fall into the next available bed and sleep.

Now Sylar finally regarded him for a few seconds before speaking.

"If you wish to know everything, then find me."

"You're here."

"I mean my real self, not this projection. Talk to Parkman!"

Then he was gone. Peter cursed before turning around and walking back to the hut. Setting the candle in the designated holder he chose the nearest bed and collapsed onto the mattress. It took less than a minute before he fell asleep with his last thoughts speculating about how Parkman was involved in Sylar's affairs.  


 

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)

  
" _You really showed yourself to him? Wasn't that risky?"_

" _No, I know how Peter thinks. He won't leave before confronting Parkman and then..." Zero or rather Sylar trailed off. Luke had never really gotten used to calling the man, he had met years ago, Zero. It didn't fit him, despite knowing the background behind the name._

" _Peter will do exactly as I have told him to..."_

  
_Luke snorted at the confidence in Sylar's voice._   


" _You sound awfully confident."_

" _There is no need for confidence. It's simply how Petrelli ticks. His conscious wont allow for him to leave without ensuring that I'm no danger to the remaining specials."_

" _But you aren't."_

" _Luke, when we met I wasn't the nicest person. I was a killer who slaughtered specials to gain their abilities. Peter died at least two times at my hand. Besides we haven't seen each other for a very long time, he has no idea what I have done in the recent years. But he will have a chance to see that I have changed soon enough."_

  
_Rolling his eyes, Luke turned around and pulled the sheets over his head. It was useless doubting Sylar. The other special was sure that his plan would succeed. Luke just wished that he knew what the older man was planning._   


  
_The ensuing silence told him that Sylar had left.  
_   


  
_  
_   
  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)

  
Peter was woken by the loud sound. Groaning he lifted his face off of the pillow, before letting head sink back down. The knocking continued, then the door opened and his hand hovered over the gun hidden beneath the pillow. Peering from among the sheets he met the amused gaze of Hertz, no Luke.

"Morning sleeping beauty, did you rest well? Lunch is in less than 30 minutes. I thought you might want to get ready. They must expect you at home by now."

  
_No, not yet but soon. Though Claire might already be on tenterhooks..._   


He nodded before sitting up and swinging his feet over the ledge.

"I'm up."

Unsurprisingly he had, despite the knowledge of Sylar's presence, slept like the dead. It had been months since he had slept through the whole night without waking up. A glance at the clock told him that it Sylar had vanished over seven hours ago. He would have to talk to Parkman before he left. The former empath had to be sure, that the mass murderer was no threat to him or them.

"Great, lunch will be served in the hall. Afterwards I will bring you back to your goods. I'll wait outside." was Luke's comment before he turned and existed the hut.

 _Goods?_ _Of course..._

Peter had almost forgotten the van with their ordered goods in the mist of the discovery of an entirely community of specials with Parkman and Ando being alive and Sylar in one of the leading positions. Claire wasn't going to believe this when he told her while Hiro would be overjoyed, due to the knowledge of his friend's survival. But they all would worry about Sylar and that was the crux of the matter.

  
_How am I going to handle Sylar?_   


There was no way around talking to Parkman. He would need to know where the murderer was hiding and then? What would he do then? Killing Sylar was out of question, not with his current power.

  
_I'll have to bring the van home and then meet with Sylar... with a more appropriate power._   


With a plan in mind he finally got up and changed into the clothes he had worn the day before. After making sure that his gun was secured, he dumped the used clothes in a basket that appeared to be put there for that very purpose.

Luke was talking to a small child as he stepped outside. The boy couldn't be more than ten. Two small kittens were mingling around his feet and meowing... and the boy meowed back. Peter blinked. A power? It had to be, otherwise it wouldn't be possible and given that Micah had been able to communicate with machines of every kind, it wasn't so unlikely.

Giving the boy a pat on the head, Luke indicated that Peter should follow him. They walked back to the hall where they had eaten dinner. As they entered he was surprised

to note that groups of children were sitting on the first two rows of benches.

"The school classes have lunch now."

"Classes?" he asked.

"Of course, we have quite a few children here. They do have to learn, don't you think?" Luke answered before continuing in a quieter bitter sounding tone. "They might need it when the world returns to normal."

Peter stayed silent, there wasn't really anything he could have said. Not when he was still hoping as well that they would someday be allowed to return home to their family and loved ones. Thoughts of his brother, who was responsible for the whole mess, and his mother who rather hid behind her blood and name than `fighting for what was right.

 _One day..._ he vowed silently, before searching for Parkman.

He found him two rows behind the children, talking quietly with a woman with long gray hair. For a moment she seemed weirdly familiar to him, her lips pulled into a slight smile and the crowfeet around her eyes crinkling. Yet he had no idea where he had seen her before. Shaking his head he walked past Luke and headed right for Parkman. With him Peter had now business.

Otherwise the situation with Sylar would never be resolved.

"Morning," he said before sitting down next to Parkman, who regarded him briefly before turning back to the woman.

Her reaction however was something entirely else. Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted, she gasped before quieting. The fork clattered to the ground. Words were spilling from her lips and Peter had to strain his hearing to hear her.

" _So much like her, oh god so much like her..."_

The woman trailed off, stood and nearly ran out of the hall, leaving a befuddled Peter and a suspicious looking Parkman behind. Luke looked at him, shook his head sat down next to him. He just spoke two words but they were enough to silence Peter.

"Bad memories."

Afterwards he ate his toast in silence, very much like Peter who couldn't help but think that he was the reason for the woman's hasty departure. But he didn't have the time for it now. He needed to talk with Parkman.

"I spoke with Zero yesterday..." he honestly tried to keep with voice neutral, but looking at Matt's face he was convince that his feelings could be heard.

He didn't react at first but after a few seconds he sighed and pushed his tray away. Facing Peter he asked, "And? Why come to me?"

The calm voice send Peter's temper to near explosion. But instead of exploding all over the place, he took deep breaths. He was still a guest and had no doubt that it wouldn't bode well for him if he attacked one of their own in the middle of lunch.

"How can you be so calm?" he demanded in a quiet angry voice. "This is Sylar we're talking about. Have you forgotten what he has done?"

Parkman wasn't fazed in the slightest. He met Peter's gaze evenly and his face gave nothing away. For a few second he was silent before answering.

"I haven't forgotten in the slightest and believe me, I'm the last one who could forget what he has done! I took care of Molly!" He paused, took a deep breath before continuing. "But Sylar paid, is paying for it and he is one of the reasons why so many specials are still alive. I haven't forgotten, but I can forgive. Besides it's not as if he can be a danger to anyone anymore."

Brows furrowed Peter listened with rapt attention. He needed to understand what had happened. He needed to know what Parkman had done.

"How do you mean that? What have you done?"

For a moment Parkman looked uncomfortable before he expression was gone again.

"He came to me some time after your brother had started his hunt. Said he wanted help, that he had some kind of terrible hunger that came with his ability and I was supposed to get rid of both. Of course I didn't believe him... I..."

Peter felt like a knot was forming in his stomach. Why did he get the feeling that this would be unpleasant. Still he had to ask, "What did you do?"

Matt was, again, silent.

"I tricked him by saying that I would help him. He trusted me and I locked him inside his mind in a world of my design."

For a moment neither of them spoke. Parkman having said all there was to say and Peter, because he was speechless. It took him a few seconds to realize what the former telepath had actually said. When the meaning actually penetrated his mind, he forgot to breathe for a minute. He stared, couldn't anything else.

"You did...?"

Parkman laughed, although it sounded more like a bark.

"You heard right. I knew I couldn't kill him, he would just come back to life and he could shield himself against my gift but he was a danger to every special alive. It had to be done. I thought it would be better. So I locked his mind up, to make sure that he could never get out to ensure that there would be no more Molly Walkers. I succeeded, partly."

Now Parkman twirled his knife absently, Peter guessed it to be nervous habit. But he said nothing. He still found it hard to believe that Parkman had done what he did. Not that he couldn't understand, he knew experienced just how dangerous Sylar was but for some reason locking him up seemed like a inefficient method.

"Not very successful, were you? I spoke with him yesterday."

"Nowadays I'm glad that Zero is one clever bastard. I have no idea how he managed to circumvent my trap but as you've seen, he did. Probably saved my life, too."

Matt shrugged.

"Completely? Can he circumvent your trap completely?" Peter needed to know.

"No, not as far as I know. He can use astral projection to appear a few hours every night. But that's it."

Mulling over the information, Peter absentmindedly chewed on the toast he had chosen to eat this morning. It was fresh and reminded him of the toast he had eaten at his family home during his childhood. Then something occurred to him, which he hadn't thought of before.

"Where did you put Sylar's body?"

"Somewhere, where no one will find him."

It was all Parkman said on the subject, no matter how carefully Peter tried to gain information. Soon his toast was gone and Luke came over from where he had sat with Sparrow.

"Come Mimicry, it's time to leave."

Knowing that this was his last chance and he wasn't going to get more information from Matt, Peter did something he rarely did. He gambled with fate. Rising he nodded to Luke before offering Parkman his hand. Concentrating he waited with bated breath as the former telepath stood as well and reached for his hand.

" _More likely a psychological problem on my part," Matt had said, "but we don't have any telepaths who could confirm it or a psychologist."_

Peter counted on the fact that Matt had told him the truth. Now all he needed was for it to be true.

Their hands brushed - his heart was pounding - their fingers curled around each other - he nodded - their fingers tightened - his pulse was rearing in his ears as he felt it. A tiny niggling pulse, struggling, writhing before it finally grappled through their connected hands and hundreds of thoughts burst to life in Peter's head.

  
_I've done it!_   


As fast as he could, he focused his attention on Matt, who stared at him, clearly puzzled. He obviously had noticed that something was going on, but as Peter had never taken a power from him before, he had no idea what had happened. That suited him just fine. He directed his thoughts towards the former telepath, blocking the rest out.

  
_There...now I know..._   


Uncurling his fingers, he let go before turning to Luke, who was waiting impatiently. Nodding one last goodbye, he followed the other special out. One their way back Peter noted that they took a different route. More tunnels which looked exactly the same followed, more enforced doors and security measures. Yes, he was still regarded with suspicion. He could live with that, as long as it saved the lives of dozens of other specials.

Eventually Luke led him into a garage, where his van was parked. The other man said his goodbye before opening one of the old rusty gates, or at least the old rusty _looking_ gates. It opened near soundlessly and he directed the van down the ramp. Luke, once more on his motorcycle, drove ahead and led him out of the seemingly endless maze of crossroads.

Finally they reached their original meeting place, not far from the spot where Claire had dropped him off yesterday with their only car that packed a bit of speed. After the apocalypse had begun in earnest the fights for the resources had been taken to a new height and gas was a commodity most could no longer afford, opting for public transportation instead.

And specials?

Acquiring the car parts so that Michael could could construct a car had taken the better part of nearly six months and lots of risky operations. Without Gretchen to order and forward their deliveries, venturing in the domes had become mighty dangerous.

Signaling Luke that from here he could find his way alone, he watched as the motorcycle sped away. The motorcycle hadn't been new but definitely well taken care of. It made him wonder how and where they got their materials from. Perhaps they had an insider in the domes as well. Keeping an eye for patrol cars of the _SCU_ , he drove the van back to their hiding place.

He had been right. Claire had been ready to turn every stone upside down to find him. The relief on her face when he finally drove the van inside the shelter they had created for their cars.

She was standing near the entrance to the mineshaft they currently lived in, her face wearing an expression of worry mixed with anger. Peter braced himself, it wouldn't be the first time Claire was angry with him and it wouldn't be the last one either. Parking the van at its designated place, he killed the engine and joined her.

"Peter!..."

Time to face the music.  



	4. At world's end

**Author:** [](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/profile)[**ryuosen**](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** [](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**davincis_girl**](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/)  
 **written** for [](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**apocabigbang**](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/)    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

  


  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)   


  


| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) | [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |  


Chapter 4 - _At world's end_

 _  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)   
_

 

" _He left then?"_

 _Luke rolled his eyes before answering, "For the hundredth time, yes he did leave and yes he confronted Parkman and yes they touched. Petrelli had this funny look on his face, kind of intense, like he willed something to happen. There was nothing though."_

 _The translucent form of Sylar smiled, a fully fledged grin with teeth. If Luke hadn't known Sylar for years, he would have been spooked. It was after all the smile of a killer._

" _Excellent! All according to the plan."_

 _Another eye-roll, this one exaggerated._

"Want to tell me now, what your great plan is about?"

" _It's really easy Luke. Peter's ability is to copy other abilities. Once he has copied one, he can use it," Sylar trailed off, letting Luke spin the thought further._

" _So he has taken Parkman's ability. It's really still there and... you want him to free you!"_

" _Correct, once I had revealed myself, I knew that Peter wouldn't rest until he has all the answers. He will come in due time."_

" _You set him up, you want him to free you!"_

 _Another shark-like smirk and a nod. Sylar was surprisingly open now, but that certainly stemmed from the satisfaction the special felt. Peter Petrelli was like a puppet without strings, which acted exactly the part Sylar had set for it. As if Doyle was directing his movements with his fingers. It was also unexpectedly sneaky and manipulative, something normally rather unusual for Sylar, who preferred blunt honesty and direct approaches._

" _Matt was clever and as long as he cannot access his own power I need another telepath to free me."_

 _Luke raised his head from the blueprint he was studying – an updated and improved version of their artificial sun, "So you know how to free yourself then?"_

" _I do."_

" _And telepathy is essential?"_

" _Unfortunately. As I've said Matt was really clever. I never expected the trap and walked right into it. However he also never knew about the full extent of my ability. He thought he had locked me away for good," Sylar finished._

" _You said once that his actions did something good for you."_

" _They did. Without it I would never have learned to do, what I do now. Still I would like to meet people again, physically rather than like this," he gestured to his ghost-like form and Luke had to concede the point, he had known loneliness as a special and couldn't even begin to imagine what it had meant for Sylar when he had discovered that he was the only person in Matt's world._

" _A good thing that I can't die, no matter how hard I tried sometimes."_

 _Luke really needed to get over the habit of speaking his thoughts out loud._

 __

[  
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)

 

 

 

Pricking his finger on the tiny needle of the _I_ dentity _V_ erifying _S_ ystem, _IVS_ for short, Peter waited for the small green lamp to light. Claire hadn't been happy, when he had told her, he would take an unexpected trip to one of the domes and would be gone for more than a few days, perhaps even a week. Unhappy was an understatement actually, she had been downright furious, furious and worried.

It wasn't that Peter didn't understand her, or couldn't empathize. They had both lost too much. But still, it was something he needed to do. Reluctantly he had told her about the near discovery and subsequent chase by the _SCU_ , about Hertz – Luke – the hideout with their artificial ecosystem and the specials living there. Hiro had been delighted when he heard of his friend's survival, while they all had been relieved in knowing that Matt Parkman was also alive.

He had, however, chosen not to mention Sylar to them. The majority of them didn't know a damn thing about Sylar. Only few remaining specials remembered what Sylar had done, Claire among them, but most were either dead or missing. And Claire's reaction he knew very well, the hate his niece felt for Sylar was almost on par with the hate for her father. So no, it was better if she didn't know.

In the end he didn't have the heart to lie to her, but omitting certain facts worked just as well. It wasn't much but he was a Petrelli after all and if there was one thing they all could do it was convince people – even family.

According to Parkman's thoughts Sylar's body had been bricked in behind an additional wall in the cellar of his old house on Varna Avenue in L.A. Unfortunately L.A – Dome 01 and L.A – Dome 02 were far away. It would take days to reach them and traveling was one of the most dangerous undertakings specials could do. Although his ID had never been deactivated and he had changed his appearance, he was a known and wanted special. It would only take one officer to recognize him for what he was and it could mean game over. However with Matt's ability it shouldn't be too difficult. While manipulating people had never his forte, he could simply use the ability to ensure that his journey would be without problems.

So now he was sitting in another old car, waiting for the _IVS_ to pronounce him clear to cross the border into the next state. Despite all of Claire's worries - he had told her that one of the designers of the cave lived inside the domes in California - the journey had been uneventful so far. All checks had gone smoothly and he had yet to encounter any cars of the _SCU._ So far Fortuna was with him and continued to be the whole time.

Twice he thought he had seen Sylar's ghost like form, standing near a corner of a gas station or next to the border control with that shitty grin on his face. But every time he looked there was nothing. Still knowing of Sylar's ability to do astral projection, it was entirely possible that the murderer was checking up on him. He was under no illusion that Sylar didn't have some kind of motive, he knew Peter too well not to. He just didn't know what and it frustrated him more than he cared to admit.

By the time he pricked his finger for the sixth time, Peter was in a foul mood, despite an uneventful journey, which was more than he had expected. His ID worked effortlessly and he was greeted by a nice lady before he left the entrance of L.A Dome01 behind.

 _I doubt she would be this nice, if she knew.._

With one last glance towards the entrance, he turned around and got back into his car. Peter didn't notice the recognition on the woman's face as he drove away, neither did he see as her hands scrambled for the telephone.

 _Sylar or rather Zero as most called him now, smiled. His translucent form was standing a few feet away from where Peter's car had been parked minutes ago. The special had done exactly as he had predicted._

 _Soon he would be free._

" _All according to the plan," he whispered into the vast expanse of the surrounding landscape._

Matt Parkman's old house belonged to the few ones who hadn't been torn down after the first fire rain. It surprised Peter since L.A had been one of the cities that had nearly been totaled. During the rebuilding it had been the influence of the filmstars and the rich, who had sponsored the building of the L.A domes to save their careers and income. A wise decision, nowadays the L.A domes were the most populated area in all of America, while New York was nothing more than a ruin.

Peter parked his car a few yards away from the house in hopes of not drawing suspicion. The car in the driveway of the house told him that someone was home. Hopefully someone easy to distract. He wanted answers and didn't have time to waste. There was still the fear of discovery.

Walking up to the house he did his best to shoulder the huge hammer he had snatched from a construction site on the way. It had been a good way to test his telepathy skills. It had been years since he last had the ability and while he was in no way fond of Sylar, he wanted answers and he wouldn't get them, when the murderer was nothing more than a blubbering vegetable. But everything had worked splendidly, none of the construction workers had questioned the vanishing hammer or even his presence. Confident that he wouldn't damage the other special beyond repair, he jumped over the fence into the garden.

There was a woman in the backyard, naked, laying on a hammock and bathing in the heavily filtered light of the sun. Peter couldn't help it, his gaze slid from the woman's face - hidden behind a book and sunglasses - to the collarbone where a thin sheen of sweat was already glinting in the sunlight, over the full supple breasts, the flat stomach down to her shapely hips, the vagina and her longs legs. She was quite beautiful and he had to fight the urge to jump her as a hot bolt of arousal hit him. It had been too long since he had lain with a woman, far too long.

Perhaps after this, he might be able to find a whore. They generally didn't give a damn whether you were a special or not. as long as you could pay. He would be able to find the release he had denied himself for some time. While there were more than enough willing women living with him in the shelter, Peter couldn't bring himself to sleep with any of them. Not when he had to face them the next day. Neither was he one to force someone, like others had done.

During the beginnings of the war, specials and soldiers alike had regressed - women, men, even children had become the spoils of war in a world that should have known better. The memory of the soldier who had tried to mount him like some fucking animal still send shivers down his spine. Luckily he had managed to shock the soldier before the situation became too dire. Not that the bastard hadn't got even, the scar on his back was proof enough or Tracy Chobharn, who had been unable to flee despite her teleportation. Not that she hadn't achieved her revenge, because she had. But sometimes it was still noticeable.

Other men and women had hooked up to stave off the loneliness, but Peter rarely did One-Night-stands, preferring relationships instead. Unfortunately he loved none of them save for Claire and she was family. So it was just him and his hands when privacy allowed it.

Tearing his eyes away from the woman's body, he focused on her mind. Bits and pieces of her thoughts floated around him and he steadily came closer until he stood right next to her, could have touched her if he so desired, completely hidden from her perception. He didn't, of course.

With a flick he opened the backdoor and went inside. The kitchen was modern and stocked to the brim. In the garbage he could see the remains of a cake and for a few minutes he could feel the anger burn under his skin like a blaze. Alone the thought that someone would throw a half eaten cake away, while nearly every special in hiding had to ration their food, had him seeing red.

"You are still in here range of vision and by the look on your face, I would guess that you are about to loose concentration. You better follow me."

That snapped him out of his thoughts, he whirled around hammer raised and came face to face with Sylar, who leaned against the kitchen table. Shoulders stiffening, Peter watched as the murderer passed him and reluctantly followed him towards a door, which probably led to the cellar. The other stepped effortlessly through the closed wall and vanished. Carefully he opened the door and peered into the darkness. Slyar's figure was like beacon in the dark, giving off just enough light for Peter to come down the stairs.

"Here we are," and with that Sylar stepped through another wall.

Basked in the darkness Peter could barely make out, that the wall seemed newer than the rest. Shrugging he hefted the hammer up and hit the wall and again and again until the stones cracked. The wall collapsed in a heap of broken stones, revealing a hidden room, just like he had seen in Matt's thoughts. Sylar stood next to something. It took more than glance in the dim light before he realized that the thing was Sylar's body.

He didn't look very different from the man Peter remembered. The hair was longer and looked filthy, the face narrower and shoulders hunched. Most certainly a result of being bricked in and not having eaten anything in years. Claire's healing could only do so much. The clothing had seen better days too.

Then the light was gone and with it Sylar.

Sighing Peter jumped over the remains of the wall and knelt before the body. Since Sylar showed no signs of rising, he resolved to wake him the old-fashioned way. Placing his hand on his shoulder he tried to shake the murderer.

A white flash of light and suddenly he was somewhere entirely else.

Peter looked around and gaped. He knew where he was. It was New York and yet it wasn't. The tall skyscrapers were still there and in the distance he could see the Statue of Liberty, but it was all so very different. Almost each and every building was overgrown with some kind of greenery. The streets were covered with green and flowers of almost every kind.

"What the hell?" he asked and in response a flock of parrots flew from the building behind him.

He turned around and stared. There, not even six yards from him, lay a tiger on a batch of dried grass. It looked up and its gazed fixed itself on Peter. It got to its feet. He gulped, tried to reach for the hammer and grabbed only thin air.

 _This cannot be good..._

The tiger advanced and Peter had half in mind to run, nevermind that it was useless. Tigers were faster than humans and he would be dead before he covered more than a few yards.

It pounced...

… and landed right next to him before it leaped at something else. Someone behind him. Peter turned around and met Sylar's dark eyes while his hands were petting the tiger, which had gotten onto its hind legs and was nuzzling the strong jaw. He blinked, not believing what he was seeing. Then the tiger sank back onto the ground and curled at the murderer's feet. He had to be in the twilight zone.

"Peter... you've made it."

Peter suppressed a snort. The bastard dared to act surprised. As if he hadn't known that he was on his way. He ignored it.

"I've come to get answers. Not that you've expected anything else, did you?"

He had the gall to grin, like a shark opening its mouth, teeth bared for all to see before he was nodding. Sylar was different, here, wherever they were. His behavior that of another man, not the mass murderer who he had encountered in the high school, the one who killed him in Mohinder's apartment or even his father's murderer.

This man seemed to be at peace.

Sylar looked different as well. His hair was still spiky and gelled up, but he could see a braid dangling over a shoulder, far longer than it could have grown naturally in the past years. He still wore black clothing.

"No I didn't. Follow me, we'll talk at my home."

He turned around and walked away. Peter reluctantly followed, again.

They walked through the streets encountering more animals and greens, but no people. If Peter didn't know it any better, he would say that they were the only humans in all of New York.

What a ludicrous thought!

They ended up in an apartment which gave Peter the creeps. Clocks were hanging on every wall, on a desk in the middle of the room were dozens of tools, parts of watches and clocks. A group of small kittens was curled up around each other on a couch on the other end of the room. The glasses of the windows were missing and vines were twining through them, giving the whole image a touch of surreality. Peter couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on. Somehow he couldn't relate the image with the one he had of the murderer.

Sylar bypassed the workbench and went through a doorway into the next room which turned out to be a cross between library and garden. Lush green grass covered the whole floor and vines, seemingly living, framed the bookcases with birds sitting on them chirping away merrily. In the center was a table surrounded by what probably passed as couches. Bulky green things were arranged around the table. Sylar took a seat before gesturing for him to do the same. Eying the couch uneasily, he shook his head.

"I'm here to get information, however I still don't want to be discovered. I take it this is Matt's work, right?"

"Right on the spot," was Sylar's answer. The bastard was grinning and Peter realized with a feeling of dread that he would free him. He couldn't do that. Before he thought too much about it, he took a seat and gave the murderer an expectant look. Whether Sylar realized his intentions or not, Peter couldn't tell.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked.

"How did you get the idea to built something like the grove."

The murderer's expression was somewhat thoughtful as his fingers stroked his unshaven jaw.

"It started after Parkman locked me up. He was clever, as he brought me here I had thought he had indeed stripped me off my powers. Then I noticed that I was completely alone. No people, no animals, nothing. Just the city and I."

Peter chose to keep his silence, yet couldn't help but think that it was a punishment he wouldn't wish on anyone.

"It took me years to regain a semblance of control. When I first discovered it, I tried everything I could to get out... without success." he added somewhat bitterly.

"Then I begun to experiment with my power until I got it to work again. Years later I heard cries for help. Never been happier to hear someone pleading. Turned out to be Luke, who called for me. We had met on my search for my real father before your brother blew everything to pieces."

The former empath gritted his teeth and growled. He was ignored.

"Soldiers had arrested him and I decided to help. At least as much as I could. I found Sparrow and sent her to save Luke. During the rescue, they were contacted by Micah and given the coordinates of Coyote Sands. They traveled there, somehow gaining more and more members until a whole group arrived. I imagine it was quite a surprise for your aunt Alice..."

Now Peter sat up.

 _Aunt Alice?_

"What are you talking? I don't have an aunt!"

"Well Alice Shaw would beg to differ. Knowing your mother I would think her quite capable of leaving her sister in the middle of a destroyed concentration camp surrounded by corpses. After all she was willing to have me believe I'm her son, just to control me and to see your father dead."

Peter snapped, he was up, swung his arm before his body froze and he was forcefully slammed into a wall. He would have groaned, had he been able to part his lips. Unfortunately all his muscles refused to budge.

The murderer had gotten up and was stalking towards him until there was but an inch of space between them. His eyes were as dark as Peter remembered them. This position was vaguely familiar, in the distant areas of his mind was the memory of Mohinder being held against the ceiling and himself in the same position he was now. Back then a shard to the head had killed him.

"You are in my world Petrelli and I wont stand for your denial or your ways to vent it because, for once, I'm not the bad guy. That blame lies solely with your family and here you wont pretend any different. So face the fact, your mother was born Angela Shaw, just like her younger sister Alice, who Angela left behind when she and your father fled from Coyote Sands. She waited you know, Alice waited and waited. But your mother never came back, she forgot her."

He tried to shake his head, his mother would never do that. The telekinesis kept him pinned without letting him move an inch, before he suddenly hit the floor. Sylar had loosened his concentration and was moving back towards the couch. He sat down, steepled his hands and watched him. Flexing his muscles, Peter also got up and took his place again. The incident ignored, for now.

"As I was saying. After Luke had gained allies in the remaining people of the carnival, they wandered into the ruins of Coyote Sands in Arizona. There we also found Ando. I had, by that time, barely figured out how to project myself. Before I could only appear to Luke in his dreams. Most of the specials didn't know me and it wasn't as if I could take their abilities anyway. So we planned to build the _Sanctuary_. It took time until we had the ideal place, but eventually we managed."

Peter thought back to the cave he had visited nearly a week earlier, the trees, the plants the grass, animals he hadn't seen in years or the food. Then the sheer number of specials who lived there – a real force of nature.

"How many people are living inside the cave?"

" _Sanctuary_ and to answer your question roughly 150 I believe, with 50 being children or elderly people."

So a hundred were adults and teenagers. Peter studied Sylar but the special showed nothing on his face. He had no idea what he was thinking.

"And what do they do the whole day?"

Now Sylar reacted. The murderer leaned forward and watched him with attentive eyes. He tried not to think of a predator stalking his prey. Being in Sylar's focus wasn't entirely pleasant.

"They work on producing food and goods we can sell, others are constructing and taking care of our machines while others teach or watch the children and the rest guards them all. What else do you think they should be doing?" he asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

It was challenge and Sylar was directing it at him. Peter didn't know whether or not the murderer knew that they were still fighting and he didn't care. Nathan had to be stopped and they could help.

"How about stopping Nathan and his forces?" he snapped back.

Damn it, Sylar brought out the worst in him. Warily he watched for the other man's reaction, half expecting to be thrown against another wall. Nothing of the sort happened. Sylar laughed, a loud barking laugh. It annoyed the hell out of him. Before Peter knew it, he was standing in front of him and yet Sylar continued to laugh.

"What's so funny about that?"

The murderer looked at him, gaze raking over his face and down his body. Peter refused to let the discomfort, he felt at being measured, show. Only then he noticed that he looked different. In the mirror behind the could he could see his own face, devoid of the gauntness - a result of their rationed meals - and the haunted look. His hair was once more short with the bangs covering one eye. No contact lenses, as if no time had passed since 2007.

"You are funny Peter. Your naivety. To expect that someone can stop your brother now, with the whole world behind him."

Sylar shook his head as his laughter died. Standing the special walked towards a glass door which led to a balcony. Stepping into the fresh air Peter watched, enraged, as the murderer leaned on the railing, a hand absently stroking over the plum of another colorful bird.

"We wont fight Peter, all people living in _Sanctuary_ have lost enough. Humanity made it clear enough that they don't want us. And even if we succeed and stop Nathan... what then? Another would just take his place."

"I never took you for a coward. But I probably shouldn't have expected anything else from a mass murderer."

Now that got him a reaction, Peter had barely time to react before he was suddenly pressed over the railing, feet dangling above the ground and strong fingers wrapped around his throat. Choking he tried to free himself as Sylar pushed him farther and farther over the balustrade.

"Shut your mouth. I've enough of your high and mighty attitude. I'm a murderer, I have killed people and enjoyed every minute of it. But at least I have learned to live with what I am. You on the other hand... does the name Adam ring a bell, Petrelli? He wanted to destroy the world and you would have gladly helped him along. Your mother sicked her guard dogs, like Bennet, on specials in the whole country, on me. Just to ensure that I would continue to kill, when I wanted to stop."

The grip around his throat loosened a fraction before tightening. He couldn't breathe and clawed at the hand without success.

"Or how about dear Nathan, the hypocrite. A special betraying all specials and yet you still hold them above all of us... Don't bother denying it, I can see it in your eyes. You still hope that you will stop this and everything will go back to how it was before. As if the world had never ended."

He couldn't breathe, could feel how the air left his lungs but nothing came in. His vision became blurred until Sylar was nothing more than a dark smudge above him. Then a hand trailed over his face, deceptively tender. Fingers trailed over cheek down to his jaw until they, too, were enclosed around his neck.

"Peter... the world is always ending, somewhere."

Then the hands were gone and he was falling. With a start did Peter realize that he trapped within a mind world and if his mind was gone... then he wouldn't wake up in the real world. Sylar's face - calm and composed - was the last thing he saw before his back connected with pavement and - with a sharp pain - the world grew dark.


	5. Memories

**Author:** ryuosen  
 **Artist:** davinci's girl  
 **written** for ApocalypticBigBang    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

  


| davinci's girl's [artpost](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/166861.html) | ← show her appreciation for the gorgeous cover and the icon!!!!

   


  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)   


  
| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) |  [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |

  


 

 

  
Chapter 5 - _Memories_   
  
  


  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)   


  
  
  


 

" _Did you succeed?"_

" _Not yet Ando, it will take time. He's not ready, yet."_

  
_Sylar had taken an empty seat across from Luke and Ando, who were currently engaging in a game of Go with Ando in the lead. The Japanese was concentrating on his pieces while he periodically glanced at Sylar._   


" _I hope that Petrelli-san won't resent you for using him like you do."_

 _The other special simply shrugged, a gesture so human, Ando sometimes found it hard to believe that it belonged to Sylar. The man he had once called_ brain-man. _Although he had never been hurt by him per se, it had taken time before he had trusted him. The knowledge of the gruesome deaths of many people a reminder that Sylar was by no means harmless._

  
_For the longest time Ando had assumed that Sylar was helping them because he had something to gain from it. When he had shown up with a wounded Matt Parkman, everything had changed. After the telepath had regained his health, he had told them what he had done and how it should be impossible that Sylar could interact with the outside world._   


_  
They had been relieved, save for Luke, who didn't seem to realize that Sylar was a dangerous killer. Although Sylar knew where they were, he couldn't do anything trapped as he was. At least that was what they had thought until Sylar demonstrated that even as simple astral projection he was able to use all of his abilities.   
_

_  
The knowledge that he could have killed them the whole time had been unsettling and reassuring.   
_

  
_Sylar could have killed them the whole time, but didn't._   


" _Peter knows without doubt that I have an ulterior motive, but he thinks he's clever. He wont realize anything until the time's right," he trailed of softly, voice growing quieter and quieter before he added, "not until we're both free."_

  
_Then he tilted his head to the side, eyes closed._   


" _Peter's waking up, I have to go."  
_

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)

The first thing Peter felt, when he woke up, was pain.

His whole body was on fire and he gasped for air, while he waited for the agony to subdue. With some effort he managed to turn around. Resting his head on the ground, he sighed in relief. Apparently he had been wrong in his assumption that he could die in Matt's world. Lifting his head he stared at the ground in surprise.

Blood was glistening in the sun and only then did he notice that his face was also wet. Groaning he got to his knees and then to his feet. Swaying slightly, he touched his jaw and studied the tacky blood that had started to dry on his face.

He couldn't let Sylar get away with that.

With careful steps he walked back to the building, he had entered with Sylar before. Everything looked the same, save for one detail. One of the prior closed doors was now open. It was just a crack, but Peter could see light through it. Walking closer he opened the door as quietly as he could and peered into the room. Then he frowned, the whole interior seemed hazy, like viewing something through water.

The room was bare save for a sleeping bag...

… and the two people in it. They were writhing together in an act Peter was all too familiar with. He recognized the man as Sylar whose back was currently turned towards him. Slender feminine hands came up and clawed at his shoulders as his hips thrust forward and Peter could hear the sigh the woman under him made. She wasn't visible but he imagined her every move as the murderer bent down again to kiss her. Back arched, Sylar's groans of pleasure echoed through the room. Peter blushed, but couldn't look away. The female arched her back and he literally lost his breath - the woman, he knew her.

Elle.

Her hips pressed upwards against Sylar's pelvis as the man nibbled at her neck. Elegant fingers were clutching at broad shoulders as their movements grew faster and faster. By now both of them were moaning loudly. One of Sylar's hands assisting Elle in her movements as they raced towards their inevitable peak. Elle came first, Peter noted. Sylar, however, slowed his movements until his lover's breathing had calmed before speeding up again. The blonde special sighed in pleasure, small bolts of electricity escaping her hands as her hips began to move again until she was panting loudly once more.

Sylar's hands were sliding over her body, turning her into a writhing mess as he moved in her. They kissed, rolled around and moved against each other. It was the kind of kiss that people in the throes of passion exchanged, messy and wet, and for a moment Peter wished that his relationships with Simone had worked out. He didn't think Sylar capable of love but he sure looked damn convincing. The looks he gave Elle - he could see their faces now - were nothing short of adoring.

One of Elle's legs had escaped the confines of the sleeping bag and was hoisted up against Sylar's hips as they moved. He could see how her toes curled and the foot arched as she climaxed again. This time Sylar was right behind her. Head thrown back, neck bared he groaned in pleasure before sacking onto her. Elle's hands were running over the back, petting the sweaty skin and they shared a gentle smile before moving to kiss.

A shot broke the silence and Peter instinctively threw himself to the ground, before rolling to his feet and groping for a weapon that wasn't there. Sylar had acted too, he had rolled himself along with Elle out of the range of the shots and was getting up to attack.

"I never took you for a voyeur Peter. But I guess you learn something new everyday."

Tearing his eyes away from the scene before him the former empath turned around and came face to face with Sylar. Embarrassment at getting caught watching someone, especially your enemy, have sex with your ex-girlfriend momentarily overriding the anger at being pushed off of the balcony.

"I thought you were behind the door," he answered.

Sylar chuckled, Peter was beginning to hate that sound.

"And yet you stayed and watched even after you knew what it was. Or perhaps you don't know what it is that you have seen..."

Sylar trailed off, leaving Peter hanging on purpose.

"I have no idea what that was, aside from the obvious!" he retorted, feeling pissed off.

"A memory, nothing more nothing less. When Matt imprisoned me here, I tried my hardest to escape but found that I couldn't. It took me nearly five thousand years before I was able to create an astral projection."

Now Peter knew that the serial killer was pulling his leg.

  
_Five thousand years, yeah... right..._   


"Whatever, I have my answers. The people rather hide like cowards and you've been leashed. I'm getting out of here."

With that he placed his hand on the taller man's shoulder and concentrated. Nothing happened. Peter opened his eyes and met the dark gaze of Sylar. Confused he looked around.

"Wha..."

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? Petrelli?"

Sylar's face showed amusement when he spoke, making it clear that he had known what would happen. He couldn't help it, Peter punched the murderer, whipping that smug grin off of his face. The man's head flew to the side and he spat some blood onto the ground, while Peter allowed himself to feel a small sliver of satisfaction. The bastard had deserved that. Of course any bruise he might have caused, didn't even show as Claire's healing took care of it.

For a brief moment he feared that Sylar would kill him again, but the special plowed on without reacting to the punch.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Matt designed this world to lock me up, _alone_ , _forever_. Only a telepath is able to get out, for everyone else it's next to impossible."

  
_No!_   


Peter didn't want to believe it, couldn't. Staring at Sylar he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

He had no idea where he was going, but didn't care. As long as he got away from Sylar. Left, right and another turn to the right again. Only as his lungs burned and his legs ached, did he stop. Glancing up he was surprised to see the building where his apartment was located. With a sigh he pushed against the door, it didn't budge. Frustrated by both the door and the revelations, he kicked the door with all his strength. The door was blown off its hinges and landed on the floor with a loud booming sound. Peter ignored it and entered the building.

Cautiously he opened another set of doors but only found the stairs instead of another memory of Sylar. The way to his apartment was a familiar one he had walked a hundred, a thousands times since he had decided to become a hospice nurse. The door to his apartment was unlocked. Peering inside, he noted with surprise that the interior was nearly the same he had chosen.

In short it war bare, save for the plants that had broken through the windows. Like no one had ever lived inside. He didn't give a damn. The door closed behind him as he sank to the ground and pulling the knees to his chest. With his arms around them, he rested his head against the wood and screamed.

By the time he stopped, his voice was hoarse and tears were trailing down his face. Exhausted he curled against the door and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. He never noticed as Sylar entered the apartment.

 _Such an innocent face..._ Sylar thought as he studied the man at his feet. Asleep Peter looked years younger, devoid of the seriousness that appeared to be a permanent fixture on his face nowadays.

After realizing that Matt's world was in fact not infallible, he had done everything until he had learned how to manipulate it to his whims. He had taken control, had created a world full of nature and life, of animals. Everything to abate the loneliness he had felt. Not that he could change everything, even after thousands of years he had spent here alone with nothing but regret, guilt and bitterness. Humans were impossible to bring into the world, not even illusions of those he knew. It made him certain that Matt had intended it to be like this for him. Matt had seen his worst fears and created a nightmare based on them.

He had wanted to drive Sylar insane.

He had succeeded.

With a sigh he lifted Peter from the ground, for once without his powers, and carried him into the adjourning room where a mattress made from grass had grown in a matter of minutes. Setting him down, he watch as the man sighed in his sleep before rolling over and curling up.

How long had it been since he had seen another person sleep without being an astral projection. He couldn't remember, too much time had passed since he had been locked up. Most of his memories from before where jumbled, insanity having torn them apart until there was nothing left. It had taken time and blood to regain what little sanity he had. Ironically it were the very people he had used to hunt, to kill - who gave him his clarity back.

It had been no lie when he had told Luke that being locked had helped him.

Though it had taken nearly 4000 years alone in hell and many many suicides before he had realized it. Before everything had changed.

Resolutely he turned his head away and walked towards the window. Leaning onto the sill Sylar watched as the sun descended. He chuckled bitterly, if he desired he could simply force the sunset to exist for all time. Nothing in the world was natural at all. His gaze ended on a small sparrow which had landed on the roof of the skyscraper across from him. Turning around his eyes rested on the former empath a few feet away.

  
_All simply illusions, except for..._   


All except for Peter.

He was real, as real nothing else and he was still as righteous and naïve as Sylar remembered him.

No matter how much he had forgotten, the memory of Claire and Peter had been always been clear inside his mind, Angela's deception causing him to think they were family.

Then sanity had returned and all that was left was bitterness and envy. Regardless of what either Claire or Peter had done wrong, their family always forgave them. He envied them, had always wanted a family like that.

When Luke had called him for help, he had seen his first chance to earn something, to gain friends and he had gotten something so much more. With Luke came the contact with Sparrow and the rest and before he knew it there was a family, who belonged to him. One who didn't care what he had done, who still needed and depended on him. He had never thought that the feeling could be so good. When Matt had forgiven him, Sylar had hoped that he might be freed. Unfortunately the telepath had suffered under the loss of his wife and decided that he didn't want his power anymore. Confronted with that problem he realized, that Peter might be the only one, who could still safe him.

Petrelli, the one family he had sworn to never have contact with again, the one who had single-handed ruined his life. It was a pity that he didn't have a choice. If he wanted out, he would have to use Peter Petrelli. In the end the loneliness had made him decide to use Peter. But it had taken years before everything was ready.

And now it was time.

Motioning with his hand, he draped a thin sheet over the man before leaving the room. Peter would need time to accept that he was now trapped with him. Besides he needed to search for the manifestation of Peter's punishment. He knew that no matter how horrified the empath might appear to be, Sylar knew he held a grudge against him and subconsciously wanted Sylar to suffer.

But time healed every wound, time and patience, Sylar knew.

Closing the door behind himself, he walked back to his apartment. He was nearly late for his nightly check on the _Sanctuary._

"It's now up to you Peter." he whispered in the night before laying down to sleep. He had work to do.

Six days had passed since Peter had been trapped inside the false reality and he had spent the whole time avoiding Sylar and exploring the false New York. It had woken long forgotten memories of better times. Walking through the streets he had searched long and hard before he had found something that didn't belong there, aside from the scattered memories of Sylar.

It was a wall.

Peter tilted his head and studied the wall with distrust. There was nothing suspicious about the wall except that it looked out of place. He was familiar with this part of the city and knew for certain that the wall didn't belong.

But he had no idea what it meant. Or the memory.

This one, too, had been of Elle and Sylar, who he had barely recognized - with glasses and brushed hair. A date showed him that it had taken place months before he had first met Sylar, before the killings started. They had eaten dinner with another man. He had recognized the apartment as the one where he had spoken with Sylar before. Elle had flirted with the man, who appeared to be a special, much to Sylar's ire. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Sylar had killed him but it did. Elle had then run out of the house and gotten in a car. Bennet had been the driver of the car and they had sped off while the murderer screamed.

Peter had no idea what it meant, but it couldn't be anything good. Bennet and Elle had been partners while they had worked for the Company so it was no surprise to see them together. What he didn't understand was why Bennet hadn't interfered and let Sylar kill that man? He must have observed them during dinner. Why had Elle let it happen? She would have been more than capable of stopping Sylar.

He didn't understand, but he didn't want to ask Sylar either. Speaking with the special was impossible, too humiliating. Alone the thought that the murderer had put him to bed caused his face to heat up. The anger followed suit at the thought that his privacy had been invaded. But he couldn't act against him, at least not without the danger of dieing again. Growling he turned around and walked away.

Maybe he would speak with Sylar as soon as his immediate anger had lessened. He needed to know how to leave this world. Given that the murderer could project himself out of the world, he had to have at least an idea.

But before he would continue to search the city.  


[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000s10h/)

" _How does it go with Petrelli-san?"_

" _As well as expected, he is still searching the city for a way out."_

  
_Sylar was hovering next to Ando who was currently hanging on a rope under the artificial sun. The Japanese was studying the data the machine was giving him, before letting red lightning cover his hands. Placing them on a flat surface, he watched as the energy was fed to the machine and one of the numerous charts began to rise. Satisfied that the display was in the green again, he pulled back._   


" _How long has it been in for you?" he asked as he let himself go, dangling in the middle of the cave._

" _Roughly six months. He hasn't spoken a word yet. But sometimes I can feel his presence near my apartment. Soon... before the year is over."_

  
_Ando nodded while he manipulated the rope to let himself down._   


  
_"I will be seeing you soon." Sylar said as Ando rotated his shoulders. The awkward angle always got to him and he wasn't the youngest anymore either._   
_  
"Let's hope so," the other special answered before waving goodbye. He wanted to sleep._   


 

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/ryuosen/pic/0000tt70/)

One year... one damn year since he had last spoken to a human or touched someone. Time was endless in this world, everyday was the same. He would walk through the city and eventually end up in front of the damn wall.

In all the time it hadn't changed at all while other parts of the city had, were now overgrown with more greenery and a pack of wolfs had commandeered the subway. Peter had found out that little tidbit of information when he had explored the tunnels and nearly gotten himself mauled by the pack. Not a good way to start the day.

A year and he was no closer to getting out than on the second day. There had been more memories, one hidden in a small repair shop for watches and it still send a shiver down his spine. Fingers knotting a sling, a focused expression on Sylar's face and then actually doing it. Peter had wondered what the man had done to take his own life. Then he had seen the corpse of a man in adjourning room. Could it really be that the man felt guilt over the death. It had at least seemed that way.

But Peter couldn't be sure, doubt remained but there was also a niggling inside his head, almost like a voice and it whispered.

  
_Elle and Bennet both worked for the Company..._   


  
_Isn't it odd, that Bennet wouldn't interfere when Elle brought a guy along and Sylar just killed him... they just drove away...and Bennet watched..._   


  
_What does that mean, your parents are behind the Company... did your mother order this?_   


The voice wouldn't shut up, always whispering doubts into his ears. He didn't know what to think and it drove him crazy, almost as much as the loneliness did. Claire had to be worried sick. She would turn over every stone under the dome and probably get herself killed. He couldn't let that happen, but it might already be too late.

One year and no progress.

And he had tried everything he could think of, from walking out of the city to actually jumping off of a roof. Nothing had gotten him out.

He would have to speak with Sylar whether he wanted or not.


	6. a handsome devil

**Author:** [](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/profile)[**ryuosen**](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** [](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**davincis_girl**](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/)  
 **written** for [](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**apocabigbang**](http://apocabigbang.livejournal.com/)    
 **Genre:** Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
 **Rating:** R for violence, rape (implied), language, sexual themes, character deaths, suicides  
 **Pairings:** SylarxElle, SylarxPeter, ClairexGretchen, MattxDaphne, PeterxSimone  
 **Wordcount:** ~26300

 **Summary:**  
All Peter knew since the discovery of his powers was fighting. He predicted the end of the world, destroyed the threat and it was still all in vain. And the source of all death that followed was one he would have least expected. Now he is still fighting, but the reappearance of someone thought gone changes everything.

 

  


  
[   
  
  
](http://pics.livejournal.com/davincis_girl/pic/000ehhce/)   


| [Masterpost](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22376.html) | [Chapter 1](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22678.html) | [Chapter 2](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/22960.html) | [Chapter 3](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23051.html) | [Chapter 4](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23510.html) | [Chapter 5](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23772.html) |  [Chapter 6](http://ryuosen.livejournal.com/23855.html) |

  


Chapter 6 - _a handsome devil_

  
With that thought in mind he turned around and wanted to walk away from the wall. Stepping onto the main street he met the calm gaze of Sylar who stood across the street. Two wolfs were framing his legs and a third was lying at his feet. For a moment Peter was reminded of the jungle book and the boy raised by wolves, although he knew for certain that Sylar - Gabriel had been raised by a woman named Virginia. She wasn't his real mother but had obviously loved him.

Seeing her die had been a shock but he had also realized that her death had neither been planned nor wanted. It made him wonder what Sylar must have been thinking when he had awoken from his trance and known that he had painted the future in his mother's blood.

"What do you want?" he asked, although he could already guess what the murderer wanted.

"I wanted to know, if you're ready to talk or should I wait another year."

Peter gritted his teeth and his hands clenched before he forced himself to relax. He had to remember that this Sylar wasn't the Sylar he had known in the real world. No, this Sylar had been locked in for years by now and had changed. How much time had passed since Matt had imprisoned him.

"About what do you want to talk?"

Sylar raised an eyebrow and for a second Peter was back, they stood in the middle of Kirby Plaza and the murderer was taunting him as he was about to explode. Shaking his head once, he pushed the thought away. The reminder of what Sylar was, however, stayed.

"How about that nice shiny wall, that came with your arrival. How about finding a way to destroy it to get out."

 _THAT_ got Peter's attention. He stared at the murderer and would have stepped closer, hadn't the third wolf decided to wake up. It yawned, exposing its sharp teeth before standing and trotting over the street. Halfway it said down and watched him, like a predator eyeing prey.

"How do you mean get out? The wall is our way out? How do you know that?"

One hand petted the wolf while Sylar watched him. Then he answered, reluctant, as if he was hating having to say anything.

"There are very few things I cannot control here," he raised his arms as if to encompass the whole reality before he continued.

"Like creating humans, leaving the city or changing the fundamental outlook of the world. Then there are many things I can do. I can create all kinds of animals, can let the flora grow all over the city but I can't influence or manipulate the wall. It was created by you and only you can destroy it again and get out." he finished with an elegant shrug.

Turning the information over in his head, Peter had to admit that it made sense in some twisted way. For a second he wondered whether he should trust Sylar but eventually decided that the special had no reason to lie to him, he wanted to get out as well. For no other reason he had lured Peter here, had played his weakness and like a puppet Peter had followed. The thoughts had come to him three weeks in his confinement and were the biggest reason why he had refused to speak with Sylar. He hated it when someone used him. Adam had done that and it had nearly destroyed the world. Peter couldn't help but think that freeing Sylar could mean the same thing.

He just didn't know.

"Then let's get a hammer," he said eventually and elaborated at Sylar's inquiring glance, "to knock down the wall."

Sylar studied him for a few seconds before he made a motion with his left hand. Peter flinched, unable to fully suppress his instincts that were screaming at him to flee as fast as he could. A clanking sound made him look. In front of him were different kinds of hammers. His eyebrows rose and he looked back at Sylar, who was grinning again. Unthinkingly he returned the grin before remembering who that was. Silently he selected a large one with a long handle and watched Sylar do the same.

"What no powers?"

Another shrug and then an answer, "Like I said, I can't manipulate the wall. So we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."

With that the murderer hefted the hammer over his shoulder and returned to the wall. Like few times before Peter reluctantly followed. He didn't wait for Sylar to make the first move, raised the hammer and slammed it against the stones.

Nothing happened.

Pulling the tool away, he saw that the wall wasn't even scratched. Angered he slammed the hammer against the stones, again and again until he couldn't lift his arms anymore and his lungs were burning. Panting he sat down and watched as Sylar continued to hit the wall, all to no avail. By the end of the day they were both beat and had accomplished nothing.

Cursing Peter left without sparing the murderer as much as a glance. He wasn't so desperate that he would stay longer than necessary in the presence of the murderer.

Not yet anyway.

Sylar watched Peter leave and smiled. All was going according to his plans. He had known that the empath wouldn't be able to stay away forever, though in all honesty it happened much quicker than anticipated. Seemed that the loneliness was getting to Peter.

  
_As if he knows loneliness..._   


The bitterness he still felt surprised him. Sylar had thought that he had left that behind himself. Apparently not as much as he had hoped. Shrugging he waited for the three wolves to arrive before he went back to his apartment. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to being alone, he could wait for Peter to come around. Patience had, after all, always been one of his strengths. Looking at Peter's retreating form, he knew that he would need it.

  
_Not another one..._   


Peter cursed. He had been searching for more food when he had stumbled onto Isaac's old atelier and onto another memory. Though he had noticed pretty quick that this memory was different from the others he had viewed before. This one was new, it couldn't be very old as it was happening inside the fake reality.

It was horrifying.

The walls of the apartment were splattered with blood, some of it fresh dripping down from ceiling and walls. Scattered over the whole ground were weapons, all drenched in blood. He could see knifes, swords, an ax, a saw, a hammer, spikes, flocks and much more. Then there was the smell of copper, cloying, making him breathe through his mouth. The sounds of something hitting the ground fast, repeatedly, the rhythm was hypnotic, almost like a drum - yet not.

Leaning forward he took a step inside the memory to see what was going on and a moment later wished he didn't. Sylar was sitting on the floor and was slamming his head against the concrete, splattering blood. His hands were gripping his hair and tore. Peter looked away as he heard the noise of flesh being ripped apart. There was more fresh blood in the air. He heaved and emptied his lunch next to the doorway.

Mutterings filled the air, then a footsteps and Peter just turned around to see Sylar throw himself out of one of the large windows. Feeling the bile rise up again, he slammed the door shut and ran from the door nearly tripping over some trash lying in the hall. He had to get away, he couldn't watch that. As he existed the building he noted somewhat relieved that there was no body splattered all over the street.

He was free from the memory.

Sitting down on one of the grass patches he waited for his heart rate to return to normal.

Peter needed to get out of here, he couldn't take it anymore. He hated Sylar, he had killed numerous people, himself included. You didn't feel sorry for murderers, you didn't.

  
_But I do..._   


And that was the truth. Three years they were trapped by now with only one way out. A way Peter still couldn't see and Sylar, who knew something, wasn't talking.

" _When the time is right, the wall will fall. Simple as that," he said._

Nearly two years since they had first exchanged words, over three since he had begun finding memories of him and barely one since he began to feel sorry for the fucking murderer. Whether he wanted or not, it was hard not to feel sympathy for Sylar, at least when he wasn't pissed enough that he wanted to wring his neck. The way he had killed his victims sickened him.

Another tiny part was impressed how much like a chameleon Sylar was. Almost effortless he changed his colors to suit his needs. Peter feared that he was doing the same thing now and that it was all just an elaborate scheme to escape his prison. He had helped Adam, he didn't want more lives on his conscious.

You didn't feel sympathy for the devil.

Even when the devil smiled at you and sometimes brushed against your shoulder. The warmth and the pounding heart he felt afterwards were glorious. He longed for the feeling of another warm body against his and knew it was impossible.

Sighing he resolved to skip lunch for now and work on the wall. Not that he enjoyed it but there was always the chance that today the wall would fall and it occupied his hands and thoughts.

Ignoring the pack of lions that lingered near the buildings to the right, he walked to the wall and was surprised to find Sylar already there. The other special was sitting against the fence and was reading a book, Pillars of the Earth, he noted. When Sylar looked up and greeted him, Peter couldn't help himself.

"You tried to _kill_ yourself!" he blurted out.

Silence ensued, not even the birds, Sylar had created, chirped. As if the world was really dead. He didn't like it.

"You saw another memory then. Which one?"

He couldn't fathom why Sylar could be so calm. Alone the thought of trying to take his own life.. he couldn't even think about it and pushed the thought away.

"Ah, you threw yourself out of a window."

Sylar hmmed thoughtfully before scratching his chin.

"I fear I don't remember that anymore but I was insane for some time in the first 4000 years."

"4000 years..."

"Didn't I tell you? Time moves differently in this world. Matt wanted eternal torment for me, therefore one hour in the real world equals one year here. I was imprisoned in early January of 2008. Now do the math. 24 hours a day alone equal 24 years. Multiply that with seven days, then four weeks and twelve months and you have the time of one year.. "

Calculating the numbers, Peter gaped. One year alone in the real world was worth 8064 years and now they had 2011. That meant...

"You've been here for nearly 24000 years!"

Sylar shrugged.

"Might be, I learned to ignore time and usually only think of it when I make look after the _Sanctuary_ machines. Here," he indicated their surroundings, "here time doesn't mean a thing."

The special closed the book, put it next to a water bottle before he lifted his hammer. Despite his uncaring expression Peter got the impression that the murderer was uncomfortable. He was still curios but had no desire to dredge up bad memories. Sylar was a murderer, but even he didn't deserve unnecessary cruelty. Not when he had already suffered for thousands of years. The smell of blood and the images of an insane Sylar were still fresh on his mind. So without saying a word he hefted his own hammer up and proceeded to demolish the wall - still without success.

In his fifth year Peter threw all of his doubts and insecurities away. He couldn't take it any longer. The loneliness was getting to him, really getting to him.

So five years after getting trapped - and he still hadn't forgiven Sylar for luring him here - he swallowed his pride and moved into Sylar's apartment. Unlike the other special he wasn't satisfied with just animals for company.

One night he grabbed his meager belongings and knocked on Sylar's door and while he would never say it out loud, he was grateful that the man let him in without comment. The loneliness was more bearable after the move.

The wall however was not. It still refused to yield to their combined efforts. Not even a chink had been achieved so far.

Peter was ready to tear his hair out... and Sylar still had the gall to look amused at their predicament. Though he was sure that the murderer wasn't as happy as he appeared. He had seen the pleased expression when he had shown up at the apartment in the middle of the night... and the incidental touches had increased and lasted longer than before. The most unsettling about them being that Peter treasured the times and reveled in the casual touch. Though he wasn't sure whether it was because he had contact with a human being or Sylar.

He would never have thought it, but the man was actually quite pleasant to converse with, when he wasn't about to kill you, possessing a startling sense of humor and wit. On some level he felt guilty because for all the hate he had once felt, he started to actually like Sylar.

And the memories didn't help at all.

Sylar was a murderer, despite the hunger. He had killed and enjoyed every minute of it. Hell he had admitted to it. Yet Peter couldn't fully blame him either, not when Bennet, Elle and his family had some hand in it. He didn't know what to do...

  
_Sure Petrelli, some day you might start to believe it._   


The fifth month of their sixth year wasn't over when Peter finally had enough and kissed him in front of the wall.

It was unclear who was more surprised, Sylar or Peter himself. Staring at each other, so close they were sharing the same air, neither said anything. Then Sylar stepped away, leaving Peter feeling cold and foolish.

  
_What was I thinking?_   


He probably hadn't and that was a problem. They had just managed to settle into an easy camaraderie. Frantically he searched for an explanation that didn't sound like a complete lie when Sylar spoke. Peter couldn't identify the tone in his voice. It sounded surprised perhaps even awed.

"Why'd you do that?"

And wasn't that a loaded question. Because he wanted to, because he yearned for another warm body next to his, because it was Sylar he wanted to kiss. He didn't know what to say, so he kept silent.

Sylar took his refusal to answer as a hint anyway and for the first time since they had met again over five years ago, he showed actual signs of anger.

"I've no need for pity!"

Of course, he would take it the wrong way.

Peter sighed, when had life become so complicated? Stupid, he knew the answer to that question. When he had decided to confront Sylar and get himself locked up with him.

"It's not pity!" he snapped, angered, "but nice to know how lowly you think of me." As if he would use a person for comfort.

"I don't... but what I'm supposed to think. Peter, we both know that you don't like me."

"How would you know?" he retorted, "you've never asked."

Sylar sneered and he had to resist the urge to punch the special. Either that or kissing him again.

"We both know that I manipulated you, I made sure you would come here to free me. For nothing else."

Peter expected the revelation to hurt but all he felt was relief. Finally he knew the truth, finally Sylar admitted it. For years he had wondered, had suspected and now he knew. It made him glad. At last everything was in the open.

"I don't hate you and this isn't pity."

"Then why?"

Peter shrugged. "I wanted to."

It's been over five years and Sylar had suffered enough, had paid enough. Peter had never been one to hold a grudge, had forgiven him for what he had done. He wouldn't forget, didn't believe that he could, but could live with what happened.

And Sylar would too.

Besides, aside that they were the only people here, Sylar was a handsome devil. Contra to what other persons did, Peter had never gotten in the habit of denying himself something he wanted. He usually took it, as was the way of the Petrelli. He was being studied, could feel Sylar's eyes on him. It was time to do it properly. Leaning the hammer against the wall, he stepped forward, hands already rising. Sylar met him halfway, his hammer clattering to the ground.

The first contact was glorious, like fireworks exploding beneath his skin. It had been so long since he last touched a human being. Moaning he cupped the strong jaw, feeling the ever present stubble under his fingers. Every sensation more intense than the last. Their shirts were gone few minutes later and Peter couldn't remember ever having sex outside of his apartment or car, but wasn't really bothered by it either. It wasn't as if someone could see them.

Sharp teeth dug into the skin above his collarbone and he groaned, arching his spine, pressing closer. His fingers skimmed over the slick back and he pushed at the hem of the pants. They had to go. Sylar agreed apparently, because his hand had wandered over his back and curved around his hips, fingers dipping beneath the fabric and drawing imaginary signs on his skin, around his hip bone.

Fumbling with the button, he pulled the zipper down and let Sylar pull the pants down his legs before he kicked them off. Skin to skin contact was even better. Their bodies entwined with each other until Peter had trouble telling where he began and Sylar ended. He pushed himself against the other and was rewarded with moan.

Dark eyes were studying him and with a nod they both dropped their last barriers. Sylar was slimmer than he expected, broad shoulders but not as muscled as one might think. His skin was also eerily pale all over without any scars or marks. He remembered how his tattoo had vanished when he had used healing.

Hands were caressing his skin, teeth nipping at his neck, doing their best to drive him mad with sensation. His own hands were gripping shoulder and hair, angling the mouth up into a kiss while their hips pressed against each other. Grunting he lifted his hand from the shoulder, slung the arm around the waist while trying to angle his hips just right. His actions spurred the other on, pressing their cocks together, causing both of them to groan, hiss and pant. Peter felt as fingers dug into his back and ass before a shudder washed over Sylar and the man came. Seconds later he followed, his back arching against the body over him.

Letting his head sink to the ground, Peter only needed few moments to gain his breath, a laugh threatening to bubble up his throat.

  
_I've never came this fast since I was sixteen..._   


Sylar lifted his head briefly, eyebrow rising in question but Peter waved him off. Looking around he searched for his clothing, the street even overgrown with grass wasn't the most comfortable surface to lie on. With a noise of complaint Sylar got off his chest, giving Peter the opportunity to get dressed again. He could feel eyes on him as he basically performed a reverse striptease but wasn't overly embarrassed. They both had seen each other at their worst and at their best. It was alright.

"Now it will work."

Facing Sylar, Peter had for a few moments no idea what he was talking about, until the other man looked pointedly at the hammer next to the wall. He looked disbelieving before speaking.

"Are you saying that we could have been out ages ago, if we had had sex earlier?"

It better no be or Peter didn't know what he would do.

" _Forgiveness!_ "

Such a simple word with numerous facets and he understood. There was no need for further words. Not wasting any time he grabbed the tool, lifted it, braced himself and slammed it against the wall with bated breath.

For a few seconds nothing, then the wall crumbled.

Ignoring the smug _I told you so-_ look, Peter hit again and again. The hole in the wall steadily growing as he was joined in his efforts by Sylar. Together it took them no time at all before they were engulfed by blinding light.

With a sharp intake of breath Peter said up. The cellar was still bathed in darkness and he couldn't see his hand in front of him much less something else. Next to him he heard a quiet groan coming from Sylar, who was attempting to get up. The darkness made it impossible to see anything. Touching Sylar Peter took the next ability he found.

Surprise was an understatement as his hands began to glow with radiation.

"Wha...," he stuttered, his skin already flashing with energy.

"Take this one!"

His hand was forcefully grabbed and something new flooded his system. A small flame appeared in his palm. Staring he looked back at Sylar.

"You never had that power, you had ice."

Sylar just grinned.

"All a matter of understanding. I had time to understand many things."

To prove his point he cocked his head to the side and up and vanished before reappearing a few feet to the left. Invisibility, Claude's ability and Peter knew that he was still alive and kicking.

"You still wont fight with us, will you?"

He knew the answer already, but he had to ask.

"The Sanctuary was created to save lives, so _no_. But you knew that already..."

Anything else Sylar wanted to say, was droned by the sound of bursting wood and metal. Peter had heard it too many times to count since Nathan had driven them into hiding. He knew what it meant and by the looks of it, so did Sylar.

" _This is the SCU, you're surrounded. Come out and surrender. You will not be harmed."_

"Seems like you're getting sloppy Petrelli." came the amused comment.

Peter's answer was nothing more than a dark look. He wondered how they had found them, but couldn't think of anything that gave him away. Not that it was important, they had more pressing matters to take care of.

"Are you ready to fight for your cause of non-involvement?" he asked instead.

Sylar's only answer was to let electricity light his hands.


End file.
